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A  Knight  of  King  Arthur's  Court. 


o  >     >    J    ' 


>  ■»   «  »  : 


AGE  OF  CHlVAliRY'-- 

OR 

KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

BY 

THOMAS   BULFINCH 

A  NEW,  REVISED  AND  ENLARGED  EDITION 

EDITED   BY 

REV.  J.  LOUGHRAN    SCOTT,  D.D. 


*'  Throngs  of  knights  and  barons  boldj 
In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold. 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Rain  influence  and  judge  the  prize." 

Milton. 


WITH  TWENTY-THREE  FULL-PAGE  PLATES  AND  NUMEROUS 

"  '  r"Di»rrii1iiT,iii' ~r'"  text 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


DAVID    McKAY,    PUBLISHER, 

6io  SOUTH   WASHINGTON   SQUARE. 


nmm  room 


Copyright,  19CX),  by  David  McKay. 


TO 

TRUMAN  J.  BACKUS,  LL.D. 


PRESIDENT    OF 


THE    PACKER    COLLEGIATE    INSTITUTE, 
BROOKLYN,    N.    Y., 

'*A   SELFLESS    MAN    AND    STAINLESS   GENTLEMAN," 

THE  WINE  OF  WHOSE  FRIENDSHIP 

I    FIRST    TASTED    MANY    YEARS    AGO. 

THE   EDITOR. 


211194 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


Two  years  ago,  at  the  instance  of  Mr.  McKay,  the  publisher, 
we  edited  a  revised  edition  of  Bulfinch' s  ' '  Age  of  Fable. ' '  The 
'  'Age  of  Chivalry  ' '  may  be  regarded  as  a  companion -piece  to  that 
work.  As  a  people  we  have  never  fully  appreciated  our  mythol- 
ogy or  national  legends.  Greece  and  Rome  have  received  their 
proper  attention,  but  few  altars  have  been  erected  to  the  unknown 
gods  of  our  early  history.  The  Druidical  age  is  too  indefinite  to 
admit  of  much  save  the  conjectural,  but  the  one  immediately  fol- 
lowing is  replete  with  traditional  interest.  The  Roman  invasion 
was  one  of  conquest ;  still  it  made  way  for  Christianity.  The  age 
of  Chivalry  that  immediately  followed  anticipated  the  Crusades 
by  hundreds  of  years.  It  was  an  effort  to  enroll  Mars  among  the 
saints.  Chivalry  was  but  another  form  of  primitive  Christianity. 
King  Arthur  becomes  the  centre  of  British  traditions.  He  is  the 
embodiment  of  those  higher  qualities  that  marked  the  ambition  of 
the  people  ;  Merlin  was  the  seer  and  Taliesin  the  Psalmist  of  that 
mystic  age.  The  actual  existence  of  an  Arthur  scarcely  admits  of 
a  reasonable  question.  This  is  evident  for  the  following  reasons  : 
"  The  general  tradition,  which  is  too  widespread  to  be  altogether 
an  invention  ;  the  existence  of  so  many  places  in  Southwestern 
England  and  Southern  Scotland  that  bear  his  name  ;  the  fact  that 
history  records  certain  great  Teutonic  invasions  at  the  very  time 
and  in  those  parts  of  Britain  where  he  is  said  to  have  lived ;  the 
persistent  local  traditions  in  Somersetshire  and  Devonshire,  Eng- 
land, where  even  to-day  the  Arthurian  legends  are  common  among 
the  peasants;  the  testimony  of  those  ancient  historical  writers  who 
lived  too  near  the  time  and  scenes  to  have  been  altogether  de- 
ceived."^ 

These  strange  traditions  for  centuries  lay  in  the  sarcophagus  of 
a  dead  language.     The  translation  of  the  Mabinogeon  marks  an 

»  W.  H.  Roberts,  D  D. 

(V) 


vi  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

era  in  the  literary  world.  But  to  Geoffry  of  Monmouth,  who  lived 
in  the  twelfth  century,  we  are  indebted,  more  than  to  all  others, 
for  unearthing  this  mine  of  literary  interest.  To  that  spring  went 
Sir  Thomas  Mallory  three  centuries  later;  and^  following  him,Hol- 
linshed,  Shakespeare  and  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Sir  Thomas  Mallory 
was  the  biographer  not  only  of  a  man  but  an  age.  The  real  Ar- 
thur was  a  man  ;  the  ideal  was  a  descendant  of  the  gods.  He  is 
the  Ulysses  of  our  Epic.  Where  there  is  no  history  the  people 
create  it ;  so  the  name  of  Arthur  became  a  page  on  which  the 
people  wrote  their  traditions.  But  an  epic  without  a  Homer  is 
a  harp  without  strings.  Chaucer,  Spenser  and  Shakespeare  did 
much  to  create  an  interest  in  our  early  traditions,  but  Tennyson 
is  the  real  Homer  of  British  literature.  His  * '  Idylls  of  the  King ' ' 
added  another  sovereign  to  the  line  of  British  monarchs.  This  we 
have  sought  to  recognize  by  the  most  frequent  quotations.  The 
first  edition  of  the  **  Age  of  Chivalry"  was  a  splendid  frame- 
work, without  the  embellishments  of  the  poets.  It  lacked  the 
touch  of  our  modern  Homer.  Not  only  Tennyson,  but  Scott, 
Dryden,  Matthew  Arnold,  Swinburne,  Lowell,  Bulwer,  Schiller, 
Mrs.  Browning  and  Miller,  all  have  contributed  their  genius  to 
these  stories  of  chivalry  and  song.  No  one  can  read  this  edition 
of  the  *'Age  of  Chivalry"  without  coming  in  contact  with  the  \X 
best  literature  on  the  Arthurian  legends.  While  retaining  the 
old  at  the  same  time  we  have  created  a  new  work.  The  interest  of 
these  legends  naturally  centres  abeut  King  Arthur  and  Queen 
Guinevere.  In  the  case  of  Guinevere  we  have  added  a  new 
section,  and  also  enlarged  the  chapter  that  treats  of  Arthur  and 
the  passing  of  his  kingdom.  The  names  ranking  next  in  inter-  y 
est  are  those  of  Launcelotand  Elaine  ;  here,  too,  we  have  written  "'^ 
an  additional  section.  At  the  close  of  the  first  part  we  have  in- 
serted a  chapter  on  Mediaeval  Legends.  St.  George  and  Robin 
Hood  attach  to  an  importance  scarcely  surpassed  by  King  Arthur 
himself.  We  have  also  drawn  directly  from  Sir  Thomas  Mallory, 
especially  in  connection  with  the  adventures  of  Sir  Tor,  Sir  Pel- 
lenore,  Sir  Gawain,  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Galahad. 

The  close  affinity  between  the  original  language  of  the  Mabino- 
geon  and  the  ancient  Gaelic  has  induced  us  to  add  a  Third  Part, 
with  seven  additional  Chapters,  consisting  largely  of  the  writings 
of  Ossian.     Whatever  may  have  been  the  origin  of  those  strange 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  vii 

bookS;^   they  certainly  embody  more  of  the  ancient   spirit  of 
Britain  than  any  other  similar  work. 

The  peculiar  fascination  which  the  first  edition  ever  had  for 
youthful  readers  we  hope  to  have  preserved.  The  word  Mab- 
inogeon  means  ''boys'  stories."  To  ignore  this  fact  would 
be  to  sin  against  the  very  life  of  legendary  history ;  at  the  same 
time,  the  "Age  of  Chivalry,"  from  its  classic  associations,  is 
worthy  a  place  in  any  library. 

Our  illustrations  are  intended  to  beautify  the  pages,  and  also 
interpret  their  spirit.  They  have  been  prepared  with  great  care, 
and  we  trust  will  gratefully  serve  their  purpose.  Beneath  every 
myth  lies  a  needful  sentiment.  Legends  are  but  an  ordinary 
garment  with  which  Truth  is  often  pleased  to  clothe  herself. 
King  Arthur  is  more  than  a  shadow.  His  name  is  carved  upon 
the  corner-stone  of  our  civilization,  and  the  ''  Age  of  Chivalry  " 
is  only  limited  by  the  age  of  man. 

J.  LouGHRAN  Scott. 

The  Macdowell  Church, 

Philadelphia,  September,  1900. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGl, 

Introduction — Decline  of  the  Roman  Power — Chivalry — Training  of  a 
Knight  —  Freemen — Villains— Serfs — Clerks  —  Tournaments — Mail 
Armor — Helmets — Romances  —  Metrical  Romances — The  Mabino- 
geon,   ...........  I-I2 

CHAPTER  n. 

The  Mythical  History  of  England — Albion — Histion — Brutus — Bladud — 
Lear — Ferrex  and  Porrex — Dunwallo  Molmutius — Brennus  and  Be- 
linus — Elidure — Lud — Cassibellaunus — Cy  mbeline — Armorica,        1 3-24 

CHAPTER  ni. 

Merlin — Vortigern — Uther  and  Pendragon — The  Tower — Battle  of  the 

Serpents — Vivian — Seduction  of  Merlin — Death  of  Merlin,      .         25-32 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Arthur — Constans — Arlhur  Chosen  King — Guinevere — The  Marriage  of 
Arthur  and  Guinevere — How  Tor  Became  a  Knight — Gawain's 
Victory, 33-47 

CHAPTER  V. 

Arthur  ( Continued) — Conquers  France — Arthur's  Coronation — He  Slays 

St.  Michael's  Giant — Gets  a  Sword  from  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,       48-57 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Gawain's  Adventure — The  Hart,  the  Brachet  and  the  Hounds — Sir  Tor's 

Adventure — King  Pellenore' s  Adventure — The  Return  to  Camelot,  58-62 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Sir  Gawain  —  Sir  Gawain's  Marriage  —  Caradoc  Brief  bras  or  Caradoc 

with  the  Shrunken  Arm — The  Boy  and  the  Mantle,         .         .         63-7 1 

(ix)     ^ 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGB 

Birth  of  Sir  Launcelot — Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake— He  is  Loved  by  the 
Queen — He  Overthrows  Three  Knights— Sixty-four  Knights  Rescued 
from  Prison— Succors  Sir  Kay — Slays  Sir  Phelot,     .         .        .        72-84 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Adventure  of  a  Cart — Queen  Guinevere  Goes  a-Maying — She  is  At- 
tacked by  Sir  Maleagans— A  Ring  is  Sent  to  Sir  Launcelot — Sir  Launce- 
lot a  Prisoner — He  Escapes  by  the  Magic  of  the  Ring — Rescues  the 
Queen, 85-90 

CHAPTER  X. 

/  The  Lady  of  Shalott — A  Tournament  at  Winchester — Sir  Launcelot  Goes 
to  the  Castle  of  Shalott — He  is  Loved  by  the  Lord's  Daughter — 
Wears  Her  Colors — Is  Wounded  and  Carried  to  the  Castle — Elaine 
— Sir  Launcelot  Retires  to  the  Forest — Is  Discovered  by  Elaine — 
Returns  to  the  Castle — Abandons  Elaine  and  Returns  to  Camelot — 
Elaine's  Despondency — Her  Death, 91-100 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Queen  Guinevere's  Peril — Attempt  to  Poison  Gawain  at  a  Banquet — A 
Scottish  Knight  Eats  the  Fatal  Apple — His  Brother,  Sir  Mador, 
Accuses  the  Queen  of  Treason — Her  Knights  Refuse  to  Champion 
Her  Cause — Sir  Mador  Demands  the  Queen's  Death — Sir  Launcelot 
Returns  and  Defeats  Sir  Mador — They  Return  to  the  Castle,  which 
is  named  "  La  Joyeuse  Garde,"      ......     101-104 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Tristram  and  Isoude — Birth  of  Tristram — He  is  Carried  into  France — 
Is  Loved  by  the  Princess  Belinda — He  Slays  an  Irish  Knight — Goes 
to  Ireland  and  is  Loved  by  Isoude  the  King's  Daughter — They  Em- 
bark for  Cornwall — The  Love  Potion — Isoude  Marries  the  King,  105-113 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Tristtam  and  Isoude  (Continued) — Isoude  is  Made  a  Prisoner — Tristram 
Fights  for  the  King  and  Isoude  is  Liberated — He  becomes  Jealous 
of  Isoude  and  Escapes  to  the  Forest — Returns  as  a  Wild  Man — Is 
Nursed  by  Isoude — Rescues  King  Arthur — Battles  with  Sir  Launce- 
lot— Goes  to  Camelot, 114-121 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sir  Tristram  and  Sir  Launcelot — Sir  Tristram  Battles  with  Nine  Men — 
He  Rescues  Sir  Palamedes — His  Fight  with  Sir  Launcelot — They 
Return  to  Camelot — Sir  Tristram  as  a  Sportsman,    .         .         .122-125 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  XV. 

PAGB 

Sir  Tristram  and  the  Round  Table — The  Seat  Perilous — Daguenet  the 
King's  Fool — Isoude's  Song — Breuse  the  Pitiless — He  Carries  Away 
Isoude — She  is  Rescued  by  Tristram — They  are  Welcomed  at  Came- 
lot, 126-131 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Sir  Tristram  is  Attacked  by  Sir  Palamedes — Sir  Palamedes  is  Defeated — 
He  Embraces  Christianity  and  is  Baptized  at  Carlisle — King  Arthur 
Determines  on  the  Holy  Grail,       ......     132-135 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Sir  Tristram  Goes  to  Brittany — He  Meets  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands — 
They  are  Married — Tristram  About  to  Die — Isoude  the  Fair  Hastens 
to  His  Bedside — Tristram's  Death — He  and  Isoude  the  Fair  Buried 
Together, 136-139 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Perceval — His  Birth — Sees  a  Company  of  Knights — Goes  to  Arthur's 
Court — Offers  to  Avenge  an  Insult  to  the  Queen — Is  Ridiculed  by 
Sir  Kay — Slays  a  Stiange  Knight  with  a  Pointed  Stick — Goes  out  in 
Search  of  Adventures— Meets  his  Uncle,  Kmg  Pecheur — Four 
Strange  Youths  Enter  the  Hall — He  Beholds  the  Holy  Grail — En- 
counters and  Defeats  Sir  Kay — Is  Welcomed  by  King  Arthur,    140-146 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Sangreal  or  Holy  Grail — How  the  Cup  Came  to  England — Scene  at 
the  Round  Table — Sir  Galahad  Determines  upon  a  Quest — He  Sits 
in  the  Seat  Perilous — Resemblances  Between  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir 
Galahad — Sir  Gawain  also  Determines  upon  a  Quest — He  Returns 
and  Relates  what  he  Saw,      .......     147-154 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Sangreal  (Continued) — Sir  Launcelot' s  Pilgrimage — He  Came  upon 
a  Chapel  in  the  Forest — His  Remorse — Vows  to  Reform — Sir  Perce- 
val sets  out  upon  his  Journey — He  meets  a  Hermit  —The  Vision  at  the 
Chapel — Is  Captured  by  a  Tempter — He  Escapes  her  Charms,      155-162 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Sangreal  (Continued) — Sir  Bohort — He  Meets  an  Old  Man  near  a 
Hermitage — Rescues  a  Knight  and  Lady — Finds  the  Body  of  a  Slain 
Knight — Battles  with  Sir  Lionel  his  Brotlier — Sir  Colgrevance  is  Slain 
— Reconciliation  Between  Sir  Bohort  and  Sir  Lionel — Sir  Launcelot, 


xii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Resumed — The  Castle  of  Carbonek — The  Vision — Sir  Launcelot  is 
Smitten — Sir  Galahad — The  Hermitage — The  Damsel — They  Enter 
a  Ship — The  City  of  Sarras — The  Cripple — Sir  Galahad  Becomes 
King — The  Holy  Grail  is  Taken  Up  to  Heaven — King  Arthur's  Com- 
mendation,       163-173 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Sir  Agrivain's  Treason — Deaths  of  Sir  Galahad  and  Sir  Perceval — Sir 
Bohort  Returns  from  Sarras — Sir  Launcelot  Arrived  at  Camelot — Sir 
Agrivain  Accuses  the  Queen — He  is  Joined  by  Modred — Sir  Modred 
Plots  Against  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  Queen — Sir  Launcelot  Escapes 
and  the  Queen  is  Condemned  to  Die — Sir  Launcelot  Returns  and 
Bears  Her  Away — Conference  between  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Launcelot 
— Sir  Launcelot  Spares  the  King's  Life — The  Year's  Truce — The 
Attack  on  Sir  Launcelot — He  Spares  Gawain — Sir  Modred  Becomes 
Ruler, 174-181 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Sir  Modred  Crowned  King — King  Arthur  Returns  to  England  and  Disputes 
the  Crown — The  Ghost  of  Gawain — King  Arthur's  Last  Battle — He 
is  Borne  from  the  Field — He  Orders  his  Sword  Thrown  into  the 
Sea — King  Arthur  is  Placed  upon  a  Barge — Three  Queens  Appear — 
He  is  Borne  to  the  Vale  of  Avalon— The  Passing  of  Guinevere — 
Guinevere  Retires  to  a  Nunnery — Her  Seclusion— Visit  of  King 
Arthur — Dea'.h  of  the  Queen — The  Return  of  Sir  Launcelot — He 
Meets  the  Queen — Becomes  a  Monk — His  Sickness  and  Death — 
The  End  of  La  Morted' Arthur, 182-198 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

Mediaeval  Legends — St.  George — He  Slays  the  Dragon — The  Lia  Fail — 
Robin  Hood — His  Character — His  Death — Stonehenge — The  For- 
tunate Isles,  . 199-207 


PART  II. 

CHAPTER    I. 

Tne  Mabinogeon — The  Britons — The  Welsh  Language  and  Literature — 

The  Welsh  Bards— The  Triads, 211-216 

CHAPTER   11. 

The  Lady  of  the  Fountain — King  Arthur  at  Caerleon — Kynon's  Story — 
The  Two  Youths  with  Yellow  Hair — The  Man  with  a  Mantle  of 
Gold — The   Castle  with   Twenty-four  Maidens  at  the  Window — 


CONTENTS.  xm 


PAGB 


Reception  of  Kynon — The  Banquet — The  Wood-ward  with  One  Foot 
and  One  Eye— The  Marble  Slab— The  Shower— The  Black 
Knight, 217-222 

CHAPTER    III. 

The  Lady  of  the  Fountain  (Continued) — Owa^n's  Adventure — He  Visits 
Kynon' s  Castle  and  Valley — The  Marble  Slab — The  Thunder — 
Owain  Battles  with  and  Wounds  a  Knight — He  Visits  the  Castle — 
Receives  a  Magic  Ring — The  Funeral  of  the  Lord  of  the  Castle — 
Owain  Sees  the  Countess  of  the  Fountain — Luned  Interviews  the 
Countess — Owain  Marries  the  Countess  and  Defends  the  Foun- 
tain,         223-230 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Lady  of  the  Fountain  (Continued) — Gawain's  Adventure — Arthur's 
Sorrow  at  the  Absence  of  Owain — Arthur  and  his  Knights  go  in 
Search — They  Come  to  the  Castle — Gawain  Fights  with  a  Knight 
who  Proves  to  be  Owain — The  Three  Months'  Banquet — The  Ad- 
venture of  the  Lion — Owain's  Adventure — He  Slays  the  Serpent — 
Owain  Finds  Luned  Imprisoned  in  a  Cave — He  Rescues  the 
Maiden  and  is  Defended  by  a  Lion,         .....    231-237 

CHAPTER  V. 

Geraint — A  Youth  Appears  Before  Arthur  at  Caerleon — The  White  Stag — 
The  Hunting  Party — An  Insult  to  Guinevere's  Maid — Geraint  Offers 
to  Avenge  it — He  Comes  to  a  Castle  and  Hears  the  Voice  of  Enid — 
Geraint  Fights  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow- Hawk — He  Redeems 
Enid's  Fortune — She  Accompanies  him  to  Arthur's  Court,        .    238-248 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Geraint  (Continued) — How  they  Hunted  the  Stag — Geraint  Presents  the 
Dwarf  at  Camelot — Enid  Arrives — Geraint' s  Wedding — He  hears 
that  his  Dominions  are  Invaded  and  Departs  to  Defend  them,      249-256 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Geraint  and  Enid — Geraint  Accused  of  Neglecting  his  Subjects — He 
Orders  Enid  to  Follow  him  in  Silence — The  Three  Robbers — The 
Youth  and  the  Pitcher — The  Earl  Limours — Limours  Plots  to  Slay 
Geraint — He  and  Enid  Escape — Limours  Pursues  and  is  Slain — 
Geraint  Wounded — The  Earl  Doorm  Removes  him  to  his  Castle — 
Doorm  Strikes  Enid  and  is  Slain  by  Geraint — They  Return  to  Arthur's 
Court — Death  of  Geraint, 257-268 


xlv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAGB 

Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyved — The  Feast  at  Narberth — The  Magic  Mound — 
Rhiannon,  the  Daughter  of  Heveydd — The  Palace — The  Banquet  One 
Year  Away — The  Mysterious  Bag — Pwyll  Marries  Rhiannon,      269-274 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Branwen,  the  Daughter  of  Llyr — Bendigeid  Vran  and  the  Thirteen  Ships 
he  saw — The  Message  of  Matholch — Matholch  Weds  Branwen — 
Evnissyen  Injures  the  King's  Horses — The  Bewitched  Caldron — 
Tumult  in  Matholch's  Kingdom — The  Caldron  Yields  Armed  Men — 
Bendigeid  is  Slain  and  his  Head  Buried  under  the  White  Tower,  275-283 

CHAPTER   X. 

Manawyddan — Pryderi,  the  Son  of  Pwyll  and  Rhiannon — The  Mar- 
riage of  Pryderi  and  Kicva — His  Cousin  Seizes  his  Estates — Rhian- 
non Becomes  the  Wife  of  Manawyddan — The  Banquet  at  Narberth 
— What  was  Seen  and  Heard  from  the  Mound — The  Deserted 
Castle— The  Wild  Boar  and  the  Dogs— Pryderi  Enters  the  Castle 
— His  Discoveries — Manawyddan  and  Kicva  go  to  England — The 
Cordwainers  Attempt  to  Slay  Them — The  Magic  Wheat — The 
Mouse  Robber — The  Lord  Bishop — Pryderi  and  Rhiannon  are 
Released  by  Magic — The  End  of  the  Mabinogi— Southey's  Estimate 
of  the  Mabinogeon,         ........     284  -294 

CHAPTER   XI.  .,. 

Kilwich  and  01  wen — Birth  of  Kilwich — The  Briar  with  Two  Blossoms- 
Death  of  King  Doged — Kilwich  Sets  Out  to  Obtain  Olwen  for  his 
Wife — He  Comes  to  Arthur's  Palace — Arthur  Makes  Search  for 
Olwen — The  Strange  Castle — Kay  Discovers  the  Maiden — The 
Magic  Flax — The  Harp  of  Teirtu,  .....     295-306 

CHAPTER   XII. 

Kilwich  and  Olwen    (Continued) — The  Black  Knight — The   Castle  of    ' 
Gwernach  the  Giant — Kay  Polishes  a  Sword — He  Slays  the  Giant — 
The  Search  for  Eidoel — The  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy — The  Salmon — 
The  Wolf  Gast  Rhymhi — Marriage  of  Kilwich  and  Olwen,      .    307-313 


CONTENTS.  XV 

PART     III. 
CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Ossian — James  Macpherson'  s  Version  —Its  Authenticity — Fingal — Cuchul- 
lin — Council  of  the  Chiefs — Deaths  of  Duchomar  and  Cathbat — 
Swaran  Sees  the  Advancing  Army — CuchulHn's  Chariot — The  Battle 
— The  Feast — The  Story  of  Grudar  and  Brassolis,  .         .     3 17-33 1 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Ghost  of  Crugal — Connal's  Vision — Cuchullin  Determines  upon 
Battle— The  Conflict — Flight  of  Grumal — Fingal' s  Fleet — Depres- 
sion of  Cuchullin — Connal  and  Galvina,  ....     332-340 

CHAPTER  III. 

Fingal  in  Lochlin— Death  of  Agandecca — Arrival  of  Calmar — Death  of 
Calmar — Cuchullin  Retires  to  a  Cave— Fingal' s  Victory — Bravery  of 
Oscar — Advice  to  Oscar — Gaul,  the  Son  of  Morni,  ,         .     341-350 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Fingal  Feasts  his  Army — The  Song  of  Peace — Ullin's  Recitations  of 
Trenmor — Swaran' s  Departure — Fingal  Finds  Cuchullin  in  the  Cave 
— Departure  of  Cuchullin, 351-360 

CHAPTER  V. 

Temora  -The  Landing  of  Fingal — Cairbar's  Feast — Attack  upon  Oscar 
— Oscar  "Wounded — Arrival  of  Fingal — Lament  for  Oscar— The 
Death  of  Cormac, 361-373 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Berrathon — Fingal's  Voyage  to  Lochlin — Touches  at  Berrathon — King 
Larthmor — Imprisonment  of  Larthmor — Ossian  and  Toscar — Nina- 
thorma  Loves  Uthal — Nina-thoma  Deserted — Ossian  and  Toscar 
Kill  Uthal — Nina-thoma  Dies  of  Grief — Larthmor  Restored  to  His 
Throne — Soliloquy  of  Ossian — He  Predicts  His  Death,  .         .     374-383 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Aideen's  Grave — The  Celts, 384-389 


xvl  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PACK 

Elphin,  the  Son  of  Gwyddno — The  Empty  Bag — The  Finding  of  Taliesin 
— Elphin  a  Prisoner--The  Maid  and  the  Mistress — The  Poet's 
Silence — He  Delivers  Elphin — Taliesin' s  Theory  of  Creation — 
Legends  as  History — The  Fulfillment  of  Prophecy — The  Growth  of 
the  British  Race — Conclusion 390-398 

Index  to  Poets 399 

Index,       .•••• 401 


UNIVERSfTY  L 

OF  •   /?  ' 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTION. 

On  the  decline  of  the  Roman  power,  about  five  centuries  after 
Christ,  the  countries  of  Northern  Europe  were  left  almost  desti- 
tute of  a  national  government.  Numerous  chiefs,  more  or  less 
powerful,  held  local  sway,  as  far  as  each  could  enforce  his 
dominion,  and  occasionally  those  chiefs  would  unite  for  a  com- 
mon object ;  but,  in  ordinary  times,  they  were  much  more  likely 
to  be  found  in  hostility  to  one  another. 

**  For  when  the  Roman  left  us,  and  their  law 
Relax'd  its  hold  upon  us,  and  the  ways 
Were  fill'd  with  rapine,  here  and  there  a  deed 
Of  prowess  done  redress'd  a  random  wrong." 

— Guinevere. 

In  such  a  state  of  things,  the  rights  of  the  humbler  classes  of  so- 
ciety were  at  the  mercy  of  every  assailant ;  and  it  is  plain  that, 
without  some  check  upon  the  lawless  power  of  the  chiefs,  society 

i'  (I) 


'3  :  :  ;;  ;•:  ,',KlNOjiUTHUIt  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 
'*r'  ***; ,*••; t^.'  'I ;     :  .*/. 

must  have  relapsed  into  barbarism.  Such  checks  were  found, 
first,  in  the  rivalry  of  the  chiefs  themselves,  whose  mutual  jealousy 
made  them  restraints  upon  one  another;  secondly,  in  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Church,  which,  by  every  motive,  pure  or  selfish, 
was  pledged  to  interpose  for  the  protection  of  the  weak ;  and 
lastly,  in  the  generosity  and  sense  of  right  which,  however  crushed 
under  the  weight  of  passion  and  selfishness,  dwell  naturally  in 
the  heart  of  man.  From  this  last  source  sprang  Chivalry,  which 
framed  an  ideal  of  the  heroic  character,  combining  invincible 
strength  and  valor,  justice,  modesty,  loyalty  to  superiors,  courtesy 
to  equals,  compassion  to  weakness,  and  devotedness  to  the  Church; 
an  ideal  which,  if  never  met  with  in  real  life,  was  acknowledged 
by  all  as  the  highest  model  for  emulation. 

The  word  Chivalry  is  derived  from  the  French  cheval,  a.  horse. 
The  word  knight,  which  originally  meant  boy  or  servant,  was 
particularly  applied  to  a  young  man  after  he  was  admitted  to  the 
privilege  of  bearing  arms.  This  privilege  was  conferred  on 
youths  of  family  and  fortune  only,  for  the  mass  of  the  people 
were  not  furnished  with  arms.  The  knight  then  was  a  mounted 
warrior,  a  man  of  rank,  or  in  the  service  and  maintenance  of 
some  man  of  rank,  generally  possessing  some  independent  means 
of  support,  but  often  relying  mainly  on  the  gratitude  of  those 
whom  he  served  for  the  supply  of  his  wants. 

In  time  of  war  the  knight  was,  with  his  followers,  in  the  camp 
of  his  sovereign,  or  commanding  in  the  field.  In  time  of  peace 
he  was  often  in  attendance  at  his  sovereign's  court,  gracing  with 
his  presence  the  banquets  and  tournaments  with  which  princes 
cheered  their  leisure.  Or  he  was  traversing  the  country  in  quest 
of  adventure,  professedly  bent  on  redressing  wrongs  and  enforc- 
ing rights,  sometimes  in  fulfilment  of  some  vow  of  religion  or  of 
love.  These  wandering  knights  were  called  knights-errant ; 
they  were  welcome  guests  in  the  castles  of  the  nobility,  for  their 
presence  enlivened  the  dullness  of  those  secluded  abodes,  and 
they  were  received  with  honor  at  the  abbeys,  which  often  owed 
the  best  part  of  their  revenues  to  the  patronage  of  the  knights ; 
but  if  no  castle  or  abbey  or  hermitage  were  at  hand,  their  hardy 
habits  made  it  not  intolerable  to  them  to  lie  down,  supperless,  at 
the  foot  of  some  wayside  cross,  and  pass  the  night. 

It  is  evident  that  the  justice  administered  by  such  an  instru- 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

mentality  must  have  been  of  the  rudest  description.  The  force 
whose  legitimate  purpose  was  to  redress  wrongs  might  easily  be 
perverted  to  inflict  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  in  the  romance?, 
which,  however  fabulous  in  facts,  are  true  as  pictures  of  manners, 
that  a  knightly  castle  was  often  a  terror  to  the  surrounding  coun- 
try ;  that  its  dungeons  were  full  of  oppressed  knights  and  ladies, 
waiting  for  some  champion  to  appear  to  set  them  free,  or  to  be 
ransomed  with  money  ;  that  hosts  of  idle  retainers  were  ever  at 
hand  to  enforce  their  lord's  behests,  regardless  of  law  and  justice  ; 
and  that  the  rights  of  the  unarmed  multitude  were  of  no  account. 
This  contrariety  of  fact  and  theory  in  regard  to  chivalry  will  ac- 
count for  the  opposite  impressions  which  exist  in  men's  minds 
respecting  it.  While  it  has  been  the  theme  of  the  most  fervid 
eulogium  on  the  one  part,  it  has  been  as  eagerly  denounced  on 
the  other. 

The  Training  of  a  Knight. 

The  preparatory  education  of  candidates  for  knighthood  was 
long  and  arduous.  At  seven  years  of  age  the  noble  children 
were  removed  from  their  father's  house  to  the  court  or  castle  of 
their  future  patron,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  a  governor,  who 
taught  them  the  first  articles  of  religion,  and  respect  and  rever- 
ence for  their  lords  and  superiors,  and  initiated  them  in  the  cere- 
monies of  a  court.  They  were  called  pages,  valets  or  varlets, 
and  their  office  was  to  carve,  to  wait  at  table,  and  to  perform 
other  menial  services,  which  were  not  then  considered  humiliat- 
ing. In  their  leisure  hours  they  learned  to  dance  and  play  on 
the  harp,  were  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  woods  and  rivers, 
that  is,  in  hunting,  falconry  and  fishing,  and  in  wrestling,  tilting 
with  spears,  and  performing  other  military  exercises  on  horse- 
back. At  fourteen  the  page  became  an  esquire,  and  began  a 
course  of  severer  and  more  laborious  exercises.  To  vault  on  a 
horse  in  heavy  armor  ;  to  run,  to  scale  walls,  to  wrestle,  to  wield 
the  battle-axe,  were  necessary  preliminaries  to  the  reception  of 
knighthood,  which  was  usually  conferred  at  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  when  the  young  man's  education  was  supposed  to  be  com- 
pleted. In  the  meantime,  the  esquires  were  no  less  assiduously 
engaged  in  acquiring  all  those  refinements  of  civility  which 
formed  what  was  in  that  age  called  courtesy.  The  same  castle  in 
which  they  received  their  education  was  usually  thronged  with 


4  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

young  persons  of  the  other  sex,  and  the  page  was  encouraged,  at 
a  very  early  age,  to  select  some  lady  of  the  court  as  the  mistress 
of  his  heart,  to  whom  he  was  taught  to  refer  all  his  sentiments, 
words,  and  actions.  The  service  of  his  mistress  was  the  glory 
and  occupation  of  a  knight,  and  her  smiles,  bestowed  at  once  by 
affection  and  gratitude,  were  held  out  as  the  recompense  of  his 
valor.  Religion  united  its  influence  with  those  of  loyalty  and 
love,  and  the  order  of  knighthood,  endowed  with  all  the  sanctity 
and  religious  awe  that  attended  the  priesthood,  became  an  object 
of  ambition  to  the  greatest  sovereigns. 

The  ceremonies  of  initiation  were  peculiarly  solemn.  After 
undergoing  a  severe  fast,  and  spending  whole  nights  in  prayer, 
the  candidate  confessed,  and  received  the  sacrament.  He  then 
clothed  himself  in  snow-white  garments,  and  repaired  to  the 
church,  or  the  hall,  where  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place,  bear- 
ing a  knightly  sword  suspended  from  his  neck,  which  the  officiat- 
ing priest  took  and  blessed,  and  then  returned  to  him.  The 
candidate  then,  with  folded  arms,  knelt  before  the  presiding 
knight,  who,  after  some  questions  about  his  motives  and  purposes 
in  requesting  admission,  administered  to  him  the  oaths,  and 
granted  his  request.  Some  of  the  knights  present,  sometimes 
even  ladies  and  damsels,  handed  to  him  in  succession  the  spurs, 
the  coat  of  mail,  the  hauberk,  the  armlet  and  gauntlet,  and  lastly 
he  girded  on  the  sword.  He  then  knelt  again  before  the  presi- 
dent, who,  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  him  the  '* accolade,"  which 
consisted  of  three  strokes,  with  the  flat  of  a  sword,  on  the  shoulder 
or  neck  of  the  candidate,  accompanied  by  the  words : 

"In  the  name  of  God,  St.  Michael  and  St.  George, 
I  make  thee  a  knight.     Be  courteous,  valiant 
And  loyal." 

Then  he  received  his  helmet,  his  shield  and  spear ;  and  thus  the 
investiture  ended. 

Freemen,  Villains,  Serfs,  and  Clerks. 

The  other  classes  of  which  society  was  composed  were,  first, 

freemen,  owners  of  small  portions  of  land,  independent,  though 

they  sometimes  voluntarily  became  the  vassals  of  their  more 

opulent  neighbors,  whose  power  was  necessary  for  their  protec- 


INTRODUCTION.  $ 

tion.  The  other  two  classes,  which  were  much  the  most  numer- 
ous, were  either  serfs  or  villains,  both  of  which  were  slaves. 

The  serfs  were  in  the  lowest  state  of  slavery.  All  the  fruits 
of  their  labor  belonged  to  the  master  whose  lands  they  tilled,  and 
by  whom  they  were  fed  and  clothed. 

The  villains  were  less  degraded.  Like  the  serfs,  they  were 
attached  to  the  soil,  and  were  transferred  with  it  by  purchase ; 
but  they  paid  only  a  fixed  rent  to  the  landlord,  and  had  a  right 
to  dispose  of  any  surplus  that  might  arise  from  their  industry. 

The  term  clerk  was  of  very  extensive  import.  It  compre- 
hended, originally,  such  persons  only  as  belonged  to  the  clergy, 
or  clerical  order,  among  whom,  however,  might  be  found  a  mul- 
titude of  married  persons,  artisans  or  others.  But  in  process  of 
time  a  much  wider  rule  was  established ;  every  one  that  could 
read  being  accounted  a  clerk,  ox clericiis,  and  allowed  the  ''bene- 
fit of  clergy,"  that  is,  exemption  from  capital  and  some  other 
forms  of  punishment,  in  case  of  crime. 

Tournaments. 

The  splendid  pageant  of  a  tournament  between  knights,  its 
gaudy  accessories  and  trappings,  and  its  chivalrous  regulations, 
originated  in  France.  Tournaments  were  repeatedly  condemned 
by  the  Church,  probably  on  account  of  the  quarrels  they  led  to, 
and  the  often  fatal  results.  The  ''joust,"  or  "just,"  was  dif- 
ferent from  the  tournament.  In  these,  knights  fought  with  their 
lances,  and  their  object  was  to  unhorse  their  antagonists ;  while 
the  tournaments  were  intended  for  a  display  of  skill  and  address 
in  evolutions,  and  with  various  weapons,  and  greater  courtesy 
was  observed  in  the  regulations.  By  these  it  was  forbidden  to 
wound  the  horse,  or  to  use  the  point  of  the  sword,  or  to  strike  a 
knight  after  he  had  raised  his  visor  or  unlaced  his  helmet.  The 
ladies  encouraged  their  knights  in  these  exercises  ;  they  bestowed 
prizes,  and  the  conqueror's  feats  were  the  theme  of  romance  and 
song.  The  stands  overlooking  the  ground,  or  course,  were  varied 
in  the  shapes  of  towers,  terraces,  galleries  and  pensile  gardens, 
magnificently  decorated  with  tapestry,  pavilions,  and  banners. 
Every  combatant  proclaimed  the  name  of  the  lady  whose  servant 
(V amour  he  was.  He  was  wont  to  look  up  to  the  stand,  and 
strengthen  his  courage  by  the  sight  of  the  bright  eyes  that  were 


6  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

raining  their  influence  on  him  from  above.  The  knights  also 
carried  ''favors,"  consisting  of  scarfs,  veils,  sleeves,  bracelets, 
clasps, — in  short,  some  pieces  of  female  habiliment, — attached 
to  their  helmets,  shields,  or  armor.  If,  during  the  combat,  any 
of  these  appendages  were  dropped  or  lost,  the  fair  donor  would 
at  times  send  her  knight  new  ones,  especially  if  pleased  with  his 
exertions. 

Mail  Armor. 

Mail  armor,  of  which  the  hauberk  is  a  species,  and  which  de- 
rived its  name  from  maille,  a  French  word  for  mesh,  was  of  two 
kinds,  plate  or  scale  mail,  and  chain  mail.  It  was  originally 
used  for  the  protection  of  the  body  only,  reaching  no  lower  than 
the  knees.  It  was  shaped  like  a  carter's  frock,  and  bound  round 
the  waist  by  a  girdle.  Gloves  and  hose  of  mail  were  afterwards 
added,  and  a  hood,  which,  when  necessary,  was  drawn  over  the 
head,  leaving  the  face  alone  uncovered. 

The  hauberk  was  a  complete  covering  of  double  chain  mail. 
Some  hauberks  opened  before,  like  a  modern  coat ;  others  were 
closed  like  a  shirt. 

The  chain  mail  of  which  they  were  composed  was  formed  by 
a  number  of  iron  links,  each  link  having  others  inserted  into  it, 
the  whole  exhibiting  a  kind  of  network,  of  which  the  meshes 
were  circular,  with  each  link  separately  riveted. 

The  hauberk  was  proof  against  the  most  violent  blow  of  a 
sword ;  but  the  point  of  a  lance  might  pass  through  the  meshes, 
or  drive  the  iron  into  the  flesh.  To  guard  against  this,  a  thick 
and  well-stuff'ed  doublet  was  worn  underneath,  under  which  was 
commonly  added  an  iron  breastplate.  Hence  the  expression 
''to  pierce  both  plate  and  mail,"  so  common  in  the  earlier 
poets. 

Mail  armor  continued  in  general  use  till  about  the  fourteenth 
century,  when  it  was  gradually  supplanted  by  plate  armor,  or 
suits  consisting  of  pieces  or  plates  of  solid  iron,  adapted  to  the 
different  parts  of  the  body. 

Shields  were  generally  made  of  wood,  covered  with  leather,  or 
some  similar  substance. 

Helmets. 

The  helmet  was  composed  of  two  parts,  the  headpiece  and  the 
visor,  which,  as  the  name  implies,  was  a  sort  of  grating  to  see 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

through.  Some  helmets  had  a  further  improvement  called  a 
bever,  from  the  Italian  bevere,  to  drink.  The  ventayle,  or  air- 
passage,  is  another  name  for  this. 

To  secure  the  helmet  from  the  possibility  of  falling,  or  of 
being  struck  off,  it  was  tied  by  several  laces  to  the  meshes  of  the 
hauberk ;  consequently,  when  a  knight  was  overthrown,  it  was 
necessary  to  undo  these  laces  before  he  could  be  put  to  death. 

Romances. 

In  ages  when  there  were  no  books,  and  princes  themselves 
could  not  read,  history  or  tradition  was  monopolized  by  the 
story-tellers.  They  inherited,  generation  after  generation,  the 
wondrous  tales  of  their  predecessors,  which  they  retailed  to  the 
public  with  such  additions  of  their  own  as  their  acquired  infor- 
mation supplied  them  with.  Anachronisms  became  of  course 
very  common,  and  errors  of  geography,  of  locality,  of  manners, 
equally  so.  Spurious  genealogies  were  invented,  in  which 
Arthur  and  his  knights,  and  Charlemagne  and  his  paladins,  were 
made  to  derive  their  descent  from  ^neas.  Hector,  or  some  other 
of  the  Trojan  heroes. 

With  regard  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  Romance,  we  trace 
it  to  the  fact  that  the  dialects  which  were  formed  in  Western 
Europe,  from  the  admixture  of  Latin  with  the  native  languages, 
took  the  name  of  Langiie  Ro7tiaine.  The  French  language  was 
divided  into  two  dialects.  The  river  Loire  was  their  common 
boundary.  In  the  provinces  to  the  south  of  that  river  the  affirma- 
tive, yes,  was  expressed  by  the  word  oc ;  in  the  north  it  was 
called  oil  {oiii^  ;  and  hence  Dante  has  named  the  southern  lan- 
guage lajigue  d'  oc,  and  the  northern  langue  d'  oil.  The  latter, 
which  was  carried  into  England  by  the  Normans,  and  is  the 
origin  of  the  present  French,  may  be  called  the  French  Romane  ; 
and  the  former  the  Provencal,  or  Provencial  Romane,  because  it 
was  spoken  by  the  people  of  Provence  and  Languedoc,  southern 
provinces  of  France. 

These  dialects  were  soon  distinguished  by  very  opposite 
characters.  A  soft  and  enervating  climate,  a  spirit  of  commerce 
encouraged  by  an  easy  communication  with  other  maritime 
nations,  the  influx  of  wealth,  and  a  more  settled  government, 
may  have  tended  to  polish  and  soften  the  diction  of  the  Pro- 


8  JCING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

vencials,  whose  poets,  under  the  name  of  Troubadours,  were  the 
masters  of  the  Italians,  and  particularly  of  Petrarch.  Their 
favorite  pieces  were  Sirventes  (satirical  pieces),  love-songs  and 
Tensonsy  which  last  were  a  sort  of  dialogue  in  verse  between  two 
poets,  who  questioned  each  other  on  some  refined  points  of  love's 
casuistry.  It  seems  the  Provencials  were  so  completely  absorbed 
in  these  delicate  questions  as  to  neglect  and  despise  the  com- 
position of  fabulous  histories  of  adventure  and  knighthood,  which 
they  left  in  a  great  measure  to  the  poets  of  the  northern  part  of 
the  kingdom,  called  Trouveurs. 

At  a  time  when  chivalry  excited  universal  admiration,  and 
when  all  the  efforts  of  that  chivalry  were  directed  against  the 
enemies  of  religion,  it  was  natural  that  literature  should  receive 
the  same  impulse,  and  that  history  and  fable  should  be  ransacked 
to  furnish  examples  of  courage  and  piety  that  might  excite  in- 
creased emulation.  Arthur  and  Charlemagne  were  the  two 
heroes  selected  for  this  purpose.  Arthur's  pretensions  were  that 
he  was  a  brave,  though  not  always  a  successful  warrior ;  he  had 
withstood  with  great  resolution  the  arms  of  the  infidels,  that  is  to 
say  of  the  Saxons,  and  his  memory  was  held  in  the  highest  esti- 
mation by  his  countrymen,  the  Britons,  who  carried  with  them 
into  Wales,  and  into  the  kindred  country  of  Armorica,  or  Brit- 
tany, the  memory  of  his  exploits,  which  their  national  vanity 
exaggerated,  till  the  little  prince  of  the  Silures  (South  Wales) 
was  magnified  into  the  conqueror  of  England,  of  Gaul,  and  of 
the  greater  part  of  Europe.  His  genealogy  was  gradually  carried 
up  to  an  imaginary  Brutus,  and  to  the  period  of  the  Trojan  war, 
and  a  sort  of  chronicle  was  composed  in  the  Welsh  or  Armorican 
language,  which,  under  the  pompous  title  of  the  History  of  the 
Kings  of  Britain,  was  translated  into  Latin  by  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, in  the  twelfth  century.  The  Welsh  critics  consider  the 
material  of  the  work  to  have  been  an  older  history,  written  by 
St.  Talian,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  in  the  seventh  century. 

As  to  Charlemagne,  though  his  real  merits  were  sufficient  to 
secure  his  immortality,  it  was  impossible  that  his  holy  wars 
against  the  Saracens  should  not  become  a  favorite  topic  for 
fiction.  Accordingly,  the  fabulous  history  of  these  wars  was 
written,  probably  towards  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  by 
a  monk,  who,  thinking  it  would  add  dignity  to  his  work  to  em- 


INTRODUCTION.  g 

hellish  it  with  a  contemporary  name,  boldly  ascribed  it  to  Tur- 
pin,  who  was  Archbishop  of  Rheims. 

These  fabulous  chronicles  were  for  a  while  imprisoned  in  lan- 
guages of  local  only  or  of  professional  access.  Both  Turpin  and 
Geoffrey  might  indeed  be  read  by  eccclesiastics,  the  sole  Latin 
scholars  of  those  times,  and  Geoffrey's  British  original  would 
contribute  to  the  gratification  of  Welshmen  ;  but  neither  could 
become  extensively  popular  till  translated  into  some  language  of 
general  and  familiar  use.  The  Anglo-Saxon  was  at  that  time 
used  only  by  a  conquered  and  enslaved  nation ;  the  Spanish  and 
Italian  languages  were  not  yet  formed ;  the  Norman  French 
alone  was  spoken  and  understood  by  the  nobility  in  the  greater 
part  of  Europe,  and  therefore  was  a  proper  vehicle  for  the  new 
mode  of  composition. 

That  language  was  fashionable  in  England  before  the  Con- 
quest, and  became,  after  that  event,  the  only  language  used  at 
the  court  of  London.  As  the  various  conquests  of  the  Normans, 
and  the  enthusiastic  valor  of  that  extraordinary  people,  had 
familiarized  the  minds  of  men  with  the  most  marvellous  events, 
their  poets  eagerly  seized  the  fabulous  legends  of  Arthur  and 
Charlemagne,  translated  them  into  the  language  of  the  day,  and 
soon  produced  a  variety  of  imitations.  The  adventures  attributed 
to  these  monarchs,  and  to  their  distinguished  warriors,  together 
with  those  of  many  other  traditionary  or  imaginary  heroes,  com- 
posed by  degrees  that  formidable  body  of  marvellous  histories 
which,  from  the  dialect  in  which  the  most  ancient  of  them  were 
written,  were  called  Romances. 

Metrical  Romances. 

The  earliest  form  in  which  romances  appear  is  that  of  a  rude 
kind  of  verse.  In  this  form  it  is  supposed  they  were  sung  or  re- 
cited at  the  feasts  of  princes  and  knights  in  their  baronial  halls. 
The  following  specimen  of  the  language  and  style  of  Robert  de 
Beauvais,  who  flourished  in  the  thirteenth  century,  is  from  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  Introduction  to  the  "  Romance  of  Sir  Tristrem." 

♦*  Ne  voil  pas  emrni  dire, 
Ici  diverse  la  matyere, 
Entre  ceus  qui  solent  cunter, 
E  de  le  cunte  Tristran  parler." 


lO  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

'*  I  will  not  say  too  much  about  it, 
So  diverse  is  the  matter, 
Among  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  telling 
And  relating  the  story  of  Tristran." 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  language  which  was  in  use  among 
the  nobility  of  England,  in  the  ages  immediately  after  the  Nor- 
man conquest.  The  following  is  a  specimen  of  the  English  that 
existed  at  the  same  time,  among  the  common  people.  Robert 
de  Brunne,  speaking  of  his  Latin  and  French  authorities,  says : 

"  Als  thai  haf  wryten  and  sayd 
Haf  I  alle  in  myn  Inglis  layd. 
In  symple  speche  as  I  couthe, 
That  is  lightest  in  manne's  mouthe. 
Alle  for  the  luf  of  symple  men, 
That  strange  Inglis  cannot  ken." 

The  ' '  strange  Inglis ' '  being  the  language  of  the  previous 
specimen. 

It  was  not  till  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  that 
the  prose  romances  began  to  appear.  These  works  generally 
began  with  disowning  and  discrediting  the  sources  from  which  in 
reality  they  drew  their  sole  information.  As  every  romance  was 
supposed  to  be  a  real  history,  the  compilers  would  have  forfeited 
all  credit  if  they  had  announced  themselves  as  mere  copyists  of 
the  minstrels.  On  the  contrary,  they  usually  state  that,  as  the 
popular  poems  upon  the  matter  in  question  contain  many  lesings,' 
they  had  been  induced  to  translate  the  real  and  true  history  of 
such  or  such  a  knight  from  the  original  Latin  or  Greek,  or  from 
the  ancient  British  or  Armorican  authorities,  which  authorities 
existed  only  in  their  own  assertion. 

A  specimen  of  the  style  of  the  prose  romances  may  be  found 
in  the  following  extract  from  one  of  the  most  celebrated  and 
latest  of  them,  the  Morte  d' Arthur  by  Sir  Thomas  Mallory,  of 
fourteen  hundred  and  eighty-five.  From  this  work  much  of  the 
contents  of  this  volume  has  been  drawn,  with  as  close  an  adher- 
ence to  the  original  style  as  was  thought  consistent  with  our  plan 
of  adapting  our  narrative  to  the  taste  of  modern  readers. 

'*  It  is  notoyrly  knowen  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world  that  there 

1  Falsities. 


INTRODUCTION.  II 

been  ix  worthy  and  the  best  that  ever  were.  That  is  to  wete 
thre  paynyms/  three  Jewes,  and  three  crysten  men.  As  for  the 
paynyms,  they  were  tofore  the  Incarnacyon  of  Cryst  whiche  were 
named,  the  fyrst  Hector  of  Troye ;  the  second  Alysaunder  the 
grete,  and  the  thyrd  Julyiis  Cezar,  Emperour  of  Rome,  of  whome 
thystoryes  ben  wel  kno  and  had.  And  as  for  the  thre  Jewes 
whyche  also  were  tofore  thyncarnacyon  of  our  Lord,  of  whome 
the  fyrst  was  Due  Josue,  whyche  brought  the  chyldren  of  Israhel 
into  the  londe  of  beheste ;  the  second  Dauyd,  kyng  of  Jheru- 
salem,  and  the  thyrd  Judas  Machabeus  ;  of  these  thre  the  byble 
reherceth  al  theyr  noble  hystoryes  and  actes.  And  sythe  the 
sayd  Incarnacyon  haue  ben  the  noble  crysten  men  stalled  and 
admytted  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world  to  the  nombre  of  the  ix 
beste  and  worthy,  of  whome  was  fyrst  the  noble  Arthur,  whose 
noble  actes  I  purpose  to  wryte  in  this  present  book  here  folow- 
yng.  The  second  was  Charlemayn,  or  Charles  the  grete,  of 
whome  thystorye  is  had  in  many  places  bo  the  in  frensshe  and 
englysshe,  and  the  thyrd  and  last  was  Godefray  of  boloyn. ' ' 

The  Mab'i-no'ge-on. 

It  has  been  well  known  to  the  literati  and  antiquarians  of 
Europe  that  there  exist  in  the  great  public  libraries  voluminous 
manuscripts  of  romances  and  tales  once  popular,  but  which,  on 
the  invention  of  printing,  had  already  become  antiquated,  and 
fallen  into  neglect.  They  were  therefore  never  printed,  and 
seldom  perused  even  by  the  learned,  until  about  a  century  ago, 
when  attention  was  again  directed  to  them,  and  they  were  found 
very  curious  monuments  of  ancient  manners,  habits,  and  modes 
of  thinking.  There  was  a  class  of  manuscripts  of  this  kind  which 
were  known,  or  rather  suspected,  to  be  both  curious  and  valu- 
able, but  which  it  seemed  almost  hopeless  to  expect  ever  to  see 
in  fair  printed  English.  These  were  the  Welsh  popular  tales, 
called  '' Mabinogeon,"  a  plural  word,  the  singular  being  Mabi- 
nogi,  a  tale.  The  Welsh  is  a  spoken  language  among  the  peas- 
antry of  Wales,  but  is  entirely  neglected  by  the  learned,  unless 
they  a»"e  natives  of  the  principality.  Of  the  few  Welsh  scholars, 
none  were  found  who  took  sufficient  interest  in  this  branch  of 
learning  to  give  these  productions  to  the  English  public.    Southey 

*  Pagans. 


32  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

and  Scott,  and  others  who,  like  them,  loved  the  old  romantic 
legends  of  their  country,  often  urged  upon  the  Welsh  literati  the 
duty  of  reproducing  the  Mabinogeon.  Southey,  in  the  preface 
to  his  edition  of  Morte  d' Arthur,  says  :  ''The  specimens  which 
I  have  seen  are  exceedingly  curious ;  nor  is  there  a  greater  de- 
sideratum in  British  literature  than  an  edition  of  these  tales,  with 
a  literal  version,  and  such  comments  as  Mr.  Davies,  of  all  men,  is 
best  qualified  to  give.  Certain  it  is  that  many  of  the  Round 
Table  fictions  originated  in  Wales,  or  in  Bretagne,  and  probably 
might  still  be  traced  there." 

Sharon  Turner  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  also  expressed  a  similar 
wish  for  the  publication  of  the  W^elsh  manuscripts.  The  former 
took  part  in  an  attempt  to  effect  it  through  the  instrumentality 
of  a  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welshman,  but  we  judge,  by  what  Southey 
says  of  him,  that  he  was  but  imperfectly  acquainted  with  English. 

It  is  probable  Mr.  Owen  did  not  proceed  far  in  an  undertaking 
which,  so  executed,  could  expect  but  little  popular  patronage. 
It  was  not  till  a  person  should  appear  possessed  of  the  requisite 
knowledge  of  the  two  languages,  of  enthusiasm  sufficient  for  the 
task,  and  of  pecuniary  resources  sufficient  to  be  independent  of 
the  booksellers  and  of  the  reading  public,  that  such  a  work  could 
be  confidently  expected.  Such  an  individual  appeared  in  the 
person  of  Lady  Charlotte  Guest,  an  English  lady  united  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  property  in  Wales,  who,  having  acquired  the  language 
of  the  principality,  and  become  enthusiastically  fond  of  its  liter- 
ary treasures,  has  given  them  to  the  English  reader,  in  a  dress 
which  the  printer's  and  the  engraver's  arts  have  done  their  best 
to  adorn.  We  claim  no  other  merit  than  that  of  bringing  it  to 
the  knowledge  of  our  readers,  of  abridging  its  details,  of  select- 
ing its  most  attractive  portions,  and  of  faithfully  preserving 
throughout  the  style  in  which  Lady  Guest  has  clothed  her  legends. 
For  this  service  we  hope  that  our  readers  will  confess  we  have 
laid  them  under  no  light  obligation. 


^^^JUpm^^JP^^il^Hl^^^^ig 

^^^^^^^mHp^mj 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

Albion — Histion — Brutus — Bla'dud — Lear — Ferrex 

and  Porrex — Dun'-wal'lo  Mal-mu'ti-us  Bren'- 

nus  and  Be-li'nus — El'i  dure — Lud — Cas'si- 

bel-lau'nus — Cym'be-line — Ar-mor'i-ca. 

Albion. 

The  early  history  of  England  is  traditional.  It  goes  back  to 
the  founding  of  Rome,  and  links  us  to  the  heroes  of  Troy.  We 
have  followed  the  account  as  given  by  John  Milton  in  his  ad- 
mirable history.  All  history  must  be  written  with  broad  mar- 
gins, while  that  which  confesses  to  the  traditional  is  but  little 
better  than  ordinary  fiction.    According  to  the  earliest  accounts, 


Albion,  the  Son  of  Neptune, 

a  contemporary  of  Hercules,  ruled  over  the  island,  to  which  he 
gave  his  name.  Presuming  to  oppose  the  progress  of  Hercules 
in  his  western  march,  he  was  slain  by  him. 

"  For  Albion  the  son  of  Neptune  was  ; 
Who  for  the  proof  of  his  great  puissance, 
Out  of  his  Albion  did  on  dry  foot  pass 
Into  old  Gaul  that  now  is  cleped  France, 
To  fight  with  Hercules,  that  did  advance 

('3) 


14  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 

To  vanquish  all  the  world  with  matchless  mighf ; 
And  there  his  mortal  part  by  great  mischance 
Was  slain." — SrENSF.R. 

Another  story,  but  one  too  improbable  ever  to  have  been  gen- 
erally believed,  is  that 

Histion,  the  Son  of  Japhet, 

the  son  of  Noah,  had  four  sons, — Francus,  Romanus,  Aleman- 
nus  and  Britto,  from  whom  descended  the  French,  Roman, 
German  and  British  people. 

Rejecting  these  and  other  like  stories,  Milton  gives  more  re- 
gard to  the  story  of 

Brutus,  the  Trojan, 
which,  he  says,  is  supported  by  "  descents  of  ancestry  long  con- 
tinued, laws  and  exploits  not  plainly  seeming  to  be  borrowed  or 
devised,  which  on  the  common  belief  have  wrought  no  small 
impression;  defended  by  many,  denied  utterly  by  few."  The 
principal  authority  is  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  whose  history, 
written  in  the  twelfth  century,  purports  to  be  a  translation  of  a 
history  of  Britain  brought  over  from  the  opposite  shore  of 
France,  which,  under  the  name  of  Brittany,  was  chiefly  peopled 
by  natives  of  Britain.  According  to  this  authority,  Brutus  was 
the  son  of  Silvius,  and  he  of  Ascanius,  the  son  of  ^neas,  whose 
flight  from  Troy  and  settlement  in  Italy  will  be  found  narrated 
in  ^'The  Ageof  Fable." 

Brutus,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  attending  his  father  to  the  chase, 
unfortunately  killed  him  with  an  arrow.  Banished  therefor  by 
his  kindred,  he  sought  refuge  in  that  part  of  Greece  where 
Helenus,  with  a  band  of  Trojan  exiles,  had  become  established. 
But  Helenus  was  now  dead,  and  the  descendants  of  the  Trojans 
were  oppressed  by  Pandrasus,  the  king  of  the  country.  Brutus, 
being  kindly  received  among  them,  so  throve  in  virtue  and  in 
arms  as  to  win  a  regard  above  all  others  of  his  age.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  the  Trojans  not  only  began  to  hope,  but  secretly 
to  persuade  him  to  lead  them  the  way  to  liberty.  To  encourage 
them,  they  had  the  promise  of  help  from  Assaracus,  a  noble 
Greek  youth,  whose  mother  was  a  Trojan.  He  had  sufl'ered 
wrong  at  the  hands  of  the  king,  and  for  that  reason  the  more 
willingly  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  Trojan  exiles. 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


15 


Choosing  a  fit  opportunity,  Brutus  with  his  countrymen  with- 
drew to  the  woods  and  hills,  as  the  safest  place  from  which  to 
expostulate,  and  sent  this  message  to  Pandrasus  :  "That  the 
Trojans,  holding  it  unworthy  of  their  ancestors  to  serve  in  a 
foreign  land,  had  retreated  to  the  woods,  choosing  rather  a 
savage  life  than  a  slavish  one.  If  that  displeased  him,  then, 
with  his  leave,  they  would  depart  to  some  other  country." 
Pandrasus,  not  expecting 
so  bold  a  message,  went  in 
pursuit  of  them,  with  such 
forces  as  he  could  gather, 
and  met  them  on  the 
banks  of  the  Achelous, 
where  Brutus  got  the  ad- 
vantage, and  took  the  king 
captive.  The  result  was, 
that  the  terms  demanded  by 
the  Trojans  were  granted  ; 
the  king  gave  his  daughter 
Imogen  in  marriage  to 
Brutus,  and  furnished  ship- 
ping, money  and  fit  pro- 
vision for  them  all  to  de- 
part from  the  land. 

The  marriage  being  sol- 
emnized, and  shipping 
from  all  parts  got  together, 
the  Trojans,  in  a  fleet  of 
three  hundred  and  twenty 
sail,  betook  themselves  to 
the  sea.  On  the  third  day 
they  arrived  at  a  certain 
island,   which   they   found 

destitute  of  inhabitants,  though  there  were  appearances  of  former 
habitation,  and  among  the  ruins  a  temple  of  Diana.  Brutus, 
here  performing  sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  the  goddess,  invoked 
an  oracle  for  his  guidance  in  these  lines : 

"  Goddess  of  shades,  and  huntress,  who  at  will 
Walk' St  on  the  rolling  sphere,  and  through  the  deep  ; 


Diana  of  Versailles  (Louvre). 


1 6  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

On  thy  third  realm,  the  earth,  look  now,  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest,  thou  bidd'st  me  seek  ; 
What  certain  seats  where  I  may  worship  thee 
Yov  aye,  with  temples  vowed  and  virgin  choirs." 

To  whom,  sleeping  before  the  altar,  Diana  in  a  vision  thus 
answered : 

«'  Brutus  I  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide, 
Heyond  the  realm  of  Gaul,  a  land  there  lies, 
Seagirt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  old  ; 
Now,  void,  it  fits  thy  people  :  thither  bend 
Thy  course  ;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  seat  ; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise, 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  awe  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold." 

Brutus,  guided  now,  as  he  thought,  by  Divine  direction,  sped 
his  course  towards  the  west,  and,  arriving  at  a  place  on  the  Tyr- 
rhene Sea,  found  there  the  descendants  of  certain  Trojans  who, 
with  Antenor,  came  into  Italy,  of  whom  Corineus  was  the  chief. 
These  joined  company,  and  the  ships  pursued  their  way  till  they 
arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Loire,  in  France,  where  the 
expedition  landed,  with  a  view  to  a  settlement,  but  were  so 
rudely  assaulted  by  the  inhabitants  that  they  put  to  sea  again, 
and  arrived  at  a  part  of  the  coast  of  Britain,  now  called  Devon- 
shire, where  Brutus  landed  his  colony  and  took  possession. 

The  island,  not  yet  Britain,  but  Albion,  was  in  a  manner 
desert  and  inho-pitable,  occupied  only  by  a  remnant  of  the 
giant  race  whose  excessive  force  and  tyranny  had  destroyed  the 
others.  The  Trojans  encountered  these  and  extirpated  them, 
Corineus  in  particular  signalizing  himself  by  his  exploits  against 
them  ;  from  whom  Cornwall  takes  its  name,  for  that  region  fell 
to  his  lot,  and  there  the  hugest  giants  dwelt,  lurking  in  rocks 
and  caves,  till  Corineus  rid  the  land  of  them. 

Brutus  built  his  capital  city,  and  called  it  Trojanova  (New 
Troy),  changed  in  time  to  Trinovantum,  now  London ; 

"  For  nob^e  Britons  sprong  from  Trojans  bold, 
And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troy's  ashes  cold." — Spenser. 

Having   governed    the  isle  twenty-four  years,  he  died,  leaving 
three  sons,  Locrine,  Albanact,  and  Camber.     Locrme  had  the 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTOR  T  QF  ENGLAND.  i  ; 

middle  part,  Camber  the  west,  called  Cambria  from  him,  and 
Albanact  Albania,  now  Scotland.  Locrine  was  married  to  Guen- 
dolen,  the  daughter  of  Corineus ;  but,  having  seen  a  fair  maid 
named  Estrildis,  who  had  been  brought  captive  from  Germany, 
he  became  enamored  of  her,  and  had  by  her  a  daughter,  whose 
name  was  Sabra.  This  matter  was  kept  secret  while  Corineus 
lived ;  but  after  his  death,  Locrine  divorced  Guendolen,  and 
made  Estrildis  his  queen.  Guendolen,  all  in  rage,  departed  to 
Cornwall,  where  Madan,  her  son,  lived,  who  had  been  brought 
up  by  Corineus,  his  grandfather.  Gathering  an  army  of  her 
father's  friends  and  subjects,  she  gave  battle  to  her  husband's 
forces,  and  Locrine  was  slain.  Guendolen  caused  her  rival,  Es- 
trildis, with  her  daughter  Sabra,  to  be  thrown  into  the  river, 
from  which  cause  the  river  thenceforth  bore  the  maiden's  name, 
which  by  length  of  time  is  now  changed  into  Sabrina  or  Severn. 
Milton  alludes  to  this  in  his  address  to  the  rivers, — 

*'  Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death"  ; — 

and  in  his  Comus  tells  the  story  with  a  slight  variation : 

**  There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream ; 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure  : 
Whilom  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father.  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  step-dame,  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 
That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  played. 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall." 

If  our  readers  ask  when  all  this  took  place,  we  must  answer,  in 
the  first  place,  that  mythology  is  not  careful  of  dates ;  and  next, 
that,  as  Brutus  was  the  great-grandson  of  ^neas,  it  must  have 
been  not  far  from  a  century  subsequent  to  the  Trojan  war,  or 
about  eleven  hundred  years  before  the  invasion  of  the  island  by 
Julius  Caesar.  This  long  interval  is  filled  with  the  names  of 
princes  whose  chief  occupation  was  in  warring  with  one  another. 
Some  few,  whose  names  remain  connected  with  places,  or  em- 
balmed in  literature,  we  will  mention. 


1 8  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Bla'dud. 

Bladiid  built  the  city  of  Bath,  and  dedicated  the  me 
waters  to  Minerva.      He  was  a  man  of  great  invention,  and  ^ 
ticed   the  arts  of  magic,  till,  having  made  him  wings  to  fly,  nc 
fell  down  upon  the  temple  of  Apollo,  in  Trinovant,  and  so  died, 
after  twenty  years'  reign. 

Lear. 

Lear,  who  next  reigned,  built  Leicester,  and  called  it  after  his 
name.  He  had  no  male  issue,  but  only  three  daughters.  When 
grown  old,  he  determined  to  divide  his  kingdom  among  his 
daughters,  and  bestow  them  in  marriage.  But  first,  to  try 
which  of  them  loved  him  best,  he  determined  to  ask  them  sol- 
emnly in  order,  and  judge  of  the  warmth  of  their  affection  by 
their  answers.  Goneril,  the  eldest,  knowing  well  her  father's 
weakness,  made  answer : 

"Sir  I  love  you  more  than  words  can  wield  the  matter, 
Dearer  than  eyesight,  space,  and  liberty  ; 
No  less  than  life,  with  grace,  health,  beauty,  honor, 
As  much  as  child  e'er  loved." — King  Lear. 

*' Since  thou  so  honorest  my  declining  age,"  said  the  old  man, 
**  to  thee  and  to  thy  husband  I  give  the  third  part  of  my  realm." 
Such  good  success  for  a  few  words  soon  uttered  was  ample  in- 
struction to  Regan,  the  second  daughter,  what  to  say.  She 
therefore  to  the  same  question  replied  : 

"  I  am  made  of  the  self-same  metal  as  my  sister, 
And  prize  me  at  her  worth." — King  Lear. 

and  so  received  an  equal  reward  with  her  sister.  But  Cordeilla, 
the  youngest,  and  hitherto  the  best  beloved,  too  honest  to  pro- 
fess in  words  more  than  she  felt  in  her  heart,  was  not  moved 
from  the  solid  purpose  of  a  sincere  and  virtuous  answer,  and 
replied  : 

"Unhappy  that  I  am,  I  cannot  heave 
My  heart  into  my  mouth  :  I  love  your  Majesty 
According  to  my  bond  ;  no  more,  nor  less." — King  Lear. 

When  the  old  man,  sorry  to  hear  this,  and  wishing  her  to  recall 
these  words,  persisted  in  asking,  she  still  restrained  her  expres- 
sions so  as  to  say  rather  less  than  more  than  the  truth.  Then 
Lear,  all  in  a  passion,  burst  forth  : 


■m 


Lear. — Thou  hast  her  France  ;  let  her  be  thine  ;  for  we 
Have  no  such  daughter,  nor  shall  ever  see 
That  face  of  her's  again. — Therefore  be  gone 
Without  our  grace,  our  love,  our  benison. 
King  Lear,  Act  i.     Sc.  L 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  19 

**  For,  by  the  sacred  radiance  of  the  sun, 
The  mysteries  of  Hecate,  and  the  night ; 
By  all  the  operations  of  the  orbs, 
For  whom  we  do  exist  and  cease  to  be  ; 
Here  I  disclaim  all  my  paternal  care, 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me, 
Hold  thee,  from  this,  for  ever." — King  Lear. 

And  without  delay,  giving  in  marriage  his  other  daughters, 
Goneril  to  the  Duke  of  Albany,  and  Regan  to  the  Duke  of  Corn- 
wall, he  divides  his  kingdom  between  them.  Cordeilla,  portion- 
less, married  the  prince  of  France,  who  shortly  after  succeeded 
his  father  upon  the  throne. 

King  Lear  went  to  reside  with  his  eldest  daughter,  attended 
only  by  a  hundred  knights.  But  in  a  short  time  his  attendants, 
being  complained  of  as  too  numerous  and -disorderly,  are  reduced 
to  thirty.  Resenting  that  affront,  the  old  king  betakes  him  to 
his  second  daughter;  but  she,  instead  of. soothing  his  wounded 
pride,  takes  part  with  her  sister,  and  refuses  to  admit  a  retinue 
of  more  than  five.  Then  back  he  returns  to  the  other,  who  now 
will  not  receive  him  with  more  than  one  attendant.  Then  the 
remembrance  of  Cordeilla  comes  to  his  thoughts,  and  he  takes 
his  journey  into  France  to  seek  her,  with  little  hope  of  kind  con- 
sideration from  one  whom  he  had  so  injured,  but  to  pay  her  the 
last  recompense  he  can  render — confession  of  his  injustice. 
When  Cordeilla  is  informed  of  his  approach,  and  of  his  sad  con- 
dition, she  pours  forth  true  filial  tears.  And,  not  willing  that 
her  own  or  others'  eyes  should  see  him  in  that  forlorn  condition, 
she  sends  one  of  her  trusted  servants  to  meet  him,  and  convey 
him  privately  to  some  comfortable  abode,  and  to  furnish  him 
with  such  state  as  befitted  his  dignity. 

King  Lear  seems  to  have  lost  not  only  faith  in  others,  but 
also  in  himself: 

"  TrsLV,  do  not  mock  me, 

I  am  a  very  foolish,  fond  old  man, 

Fourscore  and  upward,  not  an  hour  more  nor  less, 

And  to  deal  plainly, 

I  fear  I  am  not  in  my  perfect  mind." — King  Lear. 

Cordeilla,  with  the  king  her  husband,  went  out  to  meet  her 
father,  who,  because  of  his  humiliation,  attempted  to  kneel  in 
her  presence.      She  repelled  the  honor  and  exclaimed  : 


20  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 

*'  O  look  upon  me,  sir, 
And  hold  your  hands  in  benediction  o'er  me. 
No,  sir,  you  must  not  kneel." — King  Lear. 

The  king  permitted  his  wife  Cordeilla  to  go  with  an  army  and 
set  her  father  again  upon  his  throne.  They  prospered,  subdued 
the  wicked  sisters  and  their  consorts,  and  Lear  obtained  the 
crown  and  held  it  three  years.  Cordeilla  succeeded  him,  and/; 
reigned  five  years ;  but  the  sons  of  her  sisters,  after  that,  re- 
belled against  her,  and  she  lost  both  her  crown  and  life. 

Shakespeare  has  chosen  this  story  as  the  subject  of  his  tragedy 
of  King  Lear,  varying  its  details  in  some  respects.  The  mad- 
ness of  Lear,  and  the  ill  success  of  Cordeilla' s  attempt  to  rein- 
state her  father,  are  the  principal  variations.  Our  narrative  is 
drawn  from  Milton's  History ;  and  thus  the  reader  will  perceive 
that  the  story  of  Lear  has  had  the  distinguished  honor  of  being 
told  by  the  two  acknowledged  chiefs  of  British  literature. 

Ferrex  and  Porrex. 
Ferrex  and  Porrex  were  the  sons  of  Gorboduc,  who  held  the 
kingdom  after  Lear.     The  father,  wishing  to  lay  aside  the  affairs 
of  state,  resigned  the  crown  and  divided  his  kingdom  between 
his  sons  : 

"  My  love  extendeth  equally  to  both, 
My  land  sufficeth  for  them  both  also. 
H umber  shall  part  the  marches  of  their  realm  ; 
The  southern  part  the  elder  shall  possess, 
The  northern  shall  Porrex  the  younger  rule. 
In  quiet  I  will  pass  mine  aged  days." — Ferrex  and  Porrex. 

The  elder  son  felt  that  he  was  entitled,  by  virtue  of  his  age, 
to  the  entire  kingdom  : 

*'  I  marvel  much  what  reason  led  the  king, 
My  father,  thus  without  all  my  desert. 
To  reave  me  half  the  kingdom,  which  by  course 
Of  law  and  nature  should  remain  to  me." 

— Ferrex  and  Porrex. 

A  war  naturally  followed,  and  Ferrex,  having  been  defeated, 
was  expelled  from  the  country.  He  subsequently  formed  an 
alliance  with  Luard,  King  of  the  Franks,  and,  returning,  made 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  2 1 

war  upon  Porrex.     The  younger  brother  was  again  victorious, 
and  Ferrex  was  slain. 

When  his  mother  Videna  learned  of  her  son's  death  she  fell 
into  a  great  rage,  and  conceived  a  mortal  hatred  against  the  sur- 
vivor : 

"  Dost  thou  know  that  Ferrex' s  mother  Hves, 
And  doth  she  Hve  and  is  not  'venged  on  thee?" 

— Ferrex  and  Porrex. 

Videna  carried  out  her  purpose  and  became  the  slayer  of  her 
son.  This  story  forms  the  plot  of  the  first  tragedy  ever  written 
in  the  English  language.  It  was  the  joint  product  of  Thomas 
Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  Thomas  Norton,  a  barrister.  It 
was  primarily  entitled  Gorboduc,  but  changed  to  Ferrex  and 
Porrex  in  the  second  edition.  The  date  of  the  composition  is 
fifteen  hundred  and  sixty -one. 

Dun-wal'lo   Mol-mu'ti-us. 

This  is  the  next  name  of  note.  Molmutius  established  the 
Molmutine  laws,  which  bestowed  the  privilege  of  sanctuary  on 
temples,  cities,  and  the  roads  leading  to  them,  and  gave  the 
same  protection  to  ploughs,  extending  a  religious  sanction  to 
the  labors  of  the  field  : 

**  Molmutius  made  our  laws  ; 
Who  was  the  first  of  Britain  which  did  put 
His  brows  within  a  golden  crown,  and  called 
Himself  a  king." — Cymbeline. 

Bren'nus  and  Be-li'nus, 
the  sons  of  Molmutius,  succeeded  him.  They  quarrelled,  and 
Brennus  was  driven  out  of  the  island,  and  took  refuge  in  Gaul, 
where  he  met  with  such  favor  from  the  king  of  the  AUobroges 
that  he  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  and  made  him  his 
partner  on  the  throne.  Brennus  is  the  name  which  the  Roman 
historians  give  to  the  famous  leader  of  the  Gauls  who  took  Rome 
in  the  time  of  Camillus.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  claims  the 
glory  of  the  conquest  for  the  British  prince,  after  he  had  become 
king  of  the  AUobroges. 

El'l-dure. 
After  Belinus  and  Brennus  there  reigned  several  kings  of  little 
note,    and  then   came   Elidure.     Arthgallo,   his  brother,  being 
king,  gave  great  off'ence  to  his  powerful  nobles,  who  rose  against 


22  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

him,  deposed  him,  and  advanced  Elidure  to  the  throne.  Arth- 
gallo  fled,  and  endeavored  to  find  assistance  in  the  neighboring 
kingdoms,  but  found  none.  Elidure  reigned  prosperously  and 
wisely.  After  five  years'  possession  of  the  kingdom,  one  day, 
when  hunting,  he  met  in  the  forest  his  brother  Arthgallo,  who 
had  been  deposed.  After  long  wandering  he  had  returned  to 
Britain  with  only  ten  followers,  designing  to  repair  to  those 
who  had  formerly  been  his  friends.  Elidure,  at  the  sight  of  his 
brother  in  distress,  forgetting  all  animosities,  ran  to  him  and 
embraced  him  : 

*'  The  royal  Elidure  who  leads  the  chase 
Hath  checked  his  foaming  courser,      ♦  Can  it  be? 
Methinks  that  I  should  recognize  that  face, 
Though  much  disguised  by  long  adversity.* 
He  gazed  rejoicing,  and  again  he  gazed, 

Confounded  and  amazed. 
*  It  is  the  King,  my  brother!'  and,  by  sound 
Of  his  own  voice,  leaps  upon  the  ground." — Wordsworth. 

He  took  Arthgallo  home  and  concealed  him  in  the  palace. 
After  this  he  feigned  himself  sick,  and,  calling  his  nobles  about 
him,  induced  them,  partly  by  persuasion,  partly  by  force,  to 
consent  to  his  abdicating  the  kingdom  and  reinstating  his 
brother  on  the  throne.  The  agreement  being  ratified,  Elidure 
took  the  crown  from  his  own  head  and  put  it  on  his  brother's 
head.  Arthgallo  after  this  reigned  ten  years,  well  and  wisely, 
exercising  strict  justice  towards  all  men. 

He  died,  and  left  the  kingdom  to  his  sons,  who  reigned  with 
various  fortunes,  but  were  not  long-lived,  and  left  no  offspring, 
so  that  Elidure  was  again  advanced  to  the  throne,  and  finished 
the  course  of  his  life  in  just  and  virtuous  actions,  receiving  the 
name  of  the  pious,  from  the  love  and  admiration  of  his  subjects. 

Lud. 

After  Elidure,  the  Chronicle  names  many  kings,  but  none  of 
special  note,  till  we  come  to  I  Aid,  who  greatly  enlarged  Trino- 
vant,  his  capital,  and  surrounded  it  with  a  wall.  He  changed 
its  name,  bestowing  upon  it  his  own,  so  that  thenceforth  it  was 
called  Lud's  town,  afterwards  London.  Lud  was  buried  by  the 
gate  of  the  city,  called  after  him  Ludgate.  He  had  two  sons, 
but  they  were  not  old  enough  at  the  time  of  their  father's  death 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  23 

to  sustain  the  cares  of  government,  and  therefore  their  uncle 
Caswallaun,  or  Cassibellaunus,  succeeded  to  the  kingdom.  He 
was  a  brave  and  magnificent  prince,  so  that  his  fame  reached 
to  distant  countries. 

Cas'si-bel-lau'nus. 
About  this  time  it  happened  that  Julius  Caesar,  having  subdued 
Gaul,  came  to  the  shore  opposite  Britain.  And  having  resolved 
to  add  this  island  also  to  his  conquests,  he  prepared  ships  and 
transported  his  army  across  the  sea,  to  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Thames.  Here  he  was  met  by  Cassibellaun,  with  all  his  forces, 
and  a  battle  ensued,  in  which  Nennius,  the  brother  of  Cassibel- 
laun, engaged  in  single  combat  with  Caesar.  After  several  furi- 
ous blows  given  and  received,  the  sword  of  Caesar  stuck  so  fast 
in  the  shield  of  Nennius  that  it  could  not  be  pulled  out,  and,  the 
combatants  being  separated  by  the  intervention  of  the  troops, 
Nennius  remained  possessed  of  this  trophy.  At  last,  after  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  was  spent,  the  Britons  poured  in  so  fast 
that  Caesar  was  forced  to  retire  to  his  fleet.  And  finding  it  use- 
less to  continue  the  war  any  longer  at  that  time,  he  returned  to 
Gaul. 

**  The  fam'd  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(O,  giglot  fortune  !)  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright, 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage." — Cymbeline. 

Cym'be-line. 

Caesar,  on  a  second  invasion  of  the  island,  was  more  fortunate. 
Cymbeline,  the  nephew  of  the  king,  was  delivered  to  the  Romans 
as  a  hostage  for  the  faithful  fulfilment  of  the  treaty,  and,  being 
carried  to  Rome  by  Caesar,  he  was  there  brought  up  in  the  Roman 
arts  and  accomplishments.  Being  afterwards  restored  to  his 
country,  and  placed  on  the  throne,  he  was  attached  to  the  Ro- 
mans, and  continued  through  all  his  reign  at  peace  with  them. 
His  sons,  Guiderius  and  Arviragus,  who  make  their  appearance 
in  Shakespeare's  play  of  Cymbeline,  succeeded  their  father,  and, 
refusing  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Romans,  brought  on  another  inva- 
sion. 

*'  There  be  many  Caesars 
Ere  such  another  Julius.      Britain  is 
A  world  by  itself;  and  we  will  nothing  pay 
For  wearing  our  own  noses." — Cymbeline. 


24  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Guiderius  was  slain,  but  Arviragus  afterward  made  terms  with 
the  Romans,  and  reigned  prosperously  many  years. 

Ar-mor'i-ca. 
The  next  event  of  note  is  the  conquest  and  colonization  of 
Armorica  by  Maximus,  a  Roman  general,  and  Conan,  lord  of 
Miniadoc  or  Denbigh-land,  in  Wales.  The  name  of  the  country 
was  changed  to  Brittany,  or  Lesser  Britain  ;  and  so  completely 
(was  it  possessed  by  the  British  colonists  that  the  language  be- 
came assimilated  to  that  spoken  in  Wales,  and  it  is  said  that  to 
this  day  the  peasantry  of  the  two  countries  can  understand  each 
other  when  speaking  their  native  language. 

*♦  Nevertheless  a  British  record  long  concealed 
In  old  Armorica,  whose  secret  springs 
No  Gothic  conqueror  ever  drank,  revealed 
The  wondrous  current  of  forgotten  things." — WORDSWORTH. 

The  Romans  eventually  succeeded  in  establishing  themselves 
in  the  island,  and  after  the  lapse  of  several  generations  they  be- 
came blended  with  the  natives  so  that  no  distinction  existed  be- 
tween the  two  races.  When  at  length  the  Roman  armies  were 
withdrawn  from  Britain,  their  departure  was  a  matter  of  regret  to 
the  inhabitants,  as  it  left  them  without  protection  against  the 
barbarous  tribes,  Scots,  Picts  and  Norwegians,  who  harassed  the 
country  incessantly.  This  was  the  state  of  things  when  the  era 
of  King  Arthur  began. 


CHAPTER  III. 


M  er'lin — Viv'i-an. 


Mer'lin. 

Merlin  was  the  son  of  no  mortal  father,  but  of  an  Incubus, 
one  of  a  class  of  beings  not  absolutely  wicked,  but  far  from 
good,  who  inhabit  the  regions  of  the  air.  Merlin's  mother  was 
a  virtuous  young  woman,  who,  on  the  birth  of  her  son,  intrusted 
him  to  a  priest,  who  hurried  him  to  the  baptismal  fount,  and  so 
saved  him  from  sharing  the  lot  of  his  father,  though  he  retained 
many  marks  of  his  unearthly  origin. 

At  this  time  Vortigern  reigned  in  Britain.  He  was  a  usurper, 
who  had  caused  the  death  of  his  sovereign,  Moines,  and  driven 
the  two  brothers  of  the  late  king,  whose  names  were  Uther  and 
Pendragon,  into  banishment.  Vortigern,  who  lived  in  constant 
fear  of  the  return  of  the  rightful  heirs  of  the  kingdom,  began  to 
erect  a  strong  tower  for  defence.  The  edifice,  when  brought  by 
the  workmen  to  a  certain  height,  three  times  fell  to  the  ground 
without  any  apparent  cause  : 

The  tower  walls 
So  fast  as  built  fell  crashing  to  the  Earth. 


The  king  consulted  his  astrologers  on  this  wonderful  event, 
and  learned  from  them  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  bathe  the 
corner-stone  of  the  foundation  with  the  blood  of  a  child  born 
without  a  mortal  father. 

(25) 


26  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

In  search  of  such  an  infant,  Vortigern  sent  his  messengers  all 
over  the  kingdom,  and  they  by  accident  discovered  Merlin, 
whose  lineage  seemed  to  point  him  out  as  the  individual  wanted. 
They  took  him  to  the  king ;  but  Merlin,  young  as  he  was,  ex- 
plained to  the  king  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to  rescue  the 
fabric  by  such  means,  for  he  told  him  the  true  cause  of  the  in- 
stability of  the  tower  was  its  being  placed  over  the  den  of  two 
immense  dragons,  whose  combats  shook  the  earth  above  them. 
The  king  ordered  his  workmen  to  dig  beneath  the  tower,  and 
when  they  had  done  so  they  discovered  two  enormous  serpents, 
the  one  white  as  milk,  the  other  red  as  fire.  The  multitude 
looked  on  with  amazement  till  the  serpents,  slowly  rising  from 
their  den,  and  expanding  their  enormous  folds,  began  the  com- 
bat, when  every  one  fled  in  terror  except  Merlin,  who  stood  by 
clapping  his  hands  and  cheering  on  the  conflict.  The  red 
dragon  was  slain,  and  the  white  one,  gliding  through  a  cleft  in 
the  rock,  disappeared. 

These  animals  typified,  as  Merlin. afterwards  explained,  the  in- 
vasion of  Uther  and  Pendragon,  the  rightful  princes,  who  soon 
after  landed  with  a  great  army.  Vortigern  was  defeated,  and 
afterwards  burned  alive  in  the  castle  he  had  taken  such  pains  to 
construct.  On  the  death  of  Vortigern,  Pendragon  ascended  the 
throne.  Merlin  became  his  chief  adviser,  and  often  assisted  the 
king  by  his  magical  arts  : 

**  Merlin,  who  knew  the  range  of  all  their  arts, 
Had  built  the  King  his  havens,  ships  and  halls." — ViviAN. 

Among  other  endowments,  he  had  the  power  of  transforming 
himself  into  any  shape  he  pleased.  At  one  time  he  appeared  as 
a  dwarf,  at  others  as  a  damsel,  a  page,  or  even  a  greyhound  or  a 
stag.  This  faculty  he  often  employed  for  the  service  of  the 
king,  and  sometimes  also  for  the  diversion  of  the  court  and  the 
sovereign. 

He  continued  to  be  a  favorite  counsellor  through  the  reigns 
of  Pendragon,  Uther  and  Arthur,  and  at  last  disappeared  from 
view,  and  was  no  more  found  among  men,  through  the  treach- 
ery of  his  mistress,  Vivian,  the  Fairy,  which  happened  in  this 
wise. 


Vivien's  Wiles. 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIAN.  27 

Viv'i-an. 

Merlin,  having  become  enamored  of  the  fair  Vivian,  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  was  weak  enough  to  impart  to  her  various  im- 
portant secrets  of  his  art,  being  impelled  by  a  fatal  destiny,  of 
which  he  was  at  the  same  time  fully  aware.  The  lady,  however, 
was  not  content  with  his  devotion,  unbounded  as  it  seems  to 
have  been,  but  ''cast  about,"  the  Romance  tells  us,  how  she 
might  "detain  him  for  evermore,"  and  one  day  addressed  him 
in  these  terms  :  "  Sir,  I  would  that  we  should  make  a  fair  place 
and  a  suitable,  so  contrived  by  art  and  by  cunning  that  it  might 
never  be  undone,  and  that  you  and  I  should  be  there  in  joy  and 
solace."      ''My   lady,"    said    Merhn,    "I  will   do   all   this." 

<'Then,"  said  she  : 

"O,  Merlin,  teach  it  me. 
The  charm  so  taught  will  charm  us  both  to  rest. 
For,  grant  me  some  slight  power  upon  your  fate, 
I,  feeling  that  you  felt  me  worthy  trust, 
Should  rest  and  let  you  rest,  knowing  you  mine." — ViVlAN. 

"  I  grant  you  this,"  said  Merlin.  Then  he  began  to  devise,  and 
the  damsel  put  it  all  in  writing.  And  when  he  had  devised  the 
whole,  then  had  the  damsel  full  great  joy,  and  showed  him 
greater  semblance  of  love  than  she  had  ever  before  made,  and 
they  sojourned  together  a  long  while.  At  length  it  fell  out  that, 
as  they  were  going  one  day  hand- in-hand  through  the  forest  of 
Breceliande,  they  found  a  bush  of  white-thorn,  which  was  laden 
with  flowers ;  and  they  seated  themselves,  under  the  shade  of 
this  white-thorn,  upon  the  green  grass,  and  Merlin  laid  his  head 
upon  the  damsel's  lap,  and  fell  asleep.  Then  the  damsel  rose, 
and  made  a  ring  with  her  wimple  round  the  bush  and  round 
Merlin,  and  began  her  enchantments,  such  as  he  himself  had 
taught  her ;  and  nine  times  she  made  the  ring,  and  nine  times 
she  made  the  enchantment,  and  then  she  went  and  sat  down  by 
him,  and  placed  his  head  again  upon  her  lap  ; 

'*  And  a  sleep 
Fell  upon  Merlin  more  like  death,  so  deep 
Her  finger  on  her  lips  ;  then  Vivian  rose, 
And  from  her  brown-locked  head  the  wimple  throws. 
And  takes  it  in  her  hand  and  waves  it  over 
The  blossomed  thorn  tree  and  her  sleeping  lover. 
Nine  times  she  waved  the  fluttering  wimple  round, 
And  made  a  little  plot  of  magic  ground." — Matthew  Arnold. 


28  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

And  when  he  awoke  and  looked  round  him,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  was  enclosed  in  the  strongest  tower  in  the  world,  and 
laid  upon  a  fair  bed.  Then  said  he  to  the  dame  :  *'  My  lady, 
you  have  deceived  me,  unless  you  abide  with  me,  for  no  one 
hath  power  to  unmake  this  tower  but  you  alone ' '  : 

**  Closed  in  the  four  walls  of  a  hollow  tower, 
From  which  was  no  escape  for  evermore  ; 
And  none  could  find  that  man  for  evermore, 
Nor  could  he  see  but  him  who  wrought  the  charm 
Coming  and  going,  and  he  lay  as  dead." — ViVlAN. 

She  then  promised  she  would  be  often  there,  and  in  this  she 
held  her  covenant  with  him.  And  Merlin  never  went  out  of 
that  tower  where  his  Mistress  Vivian  had  enclosed  him ;  but 
she  entered  and  went  out  again  when  she  listed. 

They  talked  of  love  and  fame  and  the  stirring  scenes  of  Sir 
Arthur's  court.  Merlin  lived  only  in  the  past.  He  felt  the 
spell  of  Vivian's  charm,  but  was  impotent  to  break  it : 

*'  There  lived  a  king  in  the  most  Eastern  East, 
Less  old  than  I,  yet  older,  for  my  blood 
Hath  earnest  in  it  of  far  springs  to  be. 
A  tawny  pirate  anchor' d  in  his  port, 
Whose  bark  had  plunder' d  twenty  nameless  isles. 
And  passing  one,  at  the  high  peep  of  dawn. 
He  saw  two  cities  in  a  thousand  boats 
All  fighting  for  a  woman  on  the  sea. 
And  pushing  his  black  craft  among  them  all, 
He  lightly  scatter' d  theirs  and  brought  her  off. 
With  loss  of  half  his  people  arrow-slain." — Vivian. 

This  woman  afterwards  became  the  scourge  of  the  King  and 
his  kingdom.  The  armies  disbanded,  the  young  men  sickened, 
and  the  very  beasts  felt  the  spell  of  her  power.  The  King 
offered  a  prize  to  any  wizard  who  would  undo  the  charm.  Those 
who  attempted  and  failed  were  put  to  death : 

**  And  many  tried  and  fail'd,  because  the  charm 
Of  nature  in  her  overbore  their  own  : 
And  many  a  wizard  brow  bleach'  d  on  the  walls  ; 
And  many  weeks  a  troop  of  carrion-crows 
Hung  like  a  cloud  above  the  gateway  towers." — Vivian. 


MERLIN  AND  ViVlAN. 


29 


In  this  strange  event  Merlin  read  the  prophecy  of  his  own 
death.  He  withdrew  entirely  from  the  world,  and  was  never 
known  again  to  hold  converse  with  any  mortal  but  Vivian,  ex- 
cept on  one  occasion.    Arthur,  having  for  some  time  missed  him 


The  Wizard's  Doom. 


from  his  court,  sent  several  of  his  knights  in  search  of  him,  and, 
among  the  number.  Sir  Gawain,  who  met  with  a  very  unpleasant 
adventure  while  engaged  in  this  quest.  Happening  to  pass  a 
damsel  on  his  road,  and  neglecting  to  salute  her,  she  revenged 


30  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

herself  for  his  incivility  by  transforming  him  into  a  hideous 
dwarf  He  was  bewailing  aloud  his  evil  fortune  as  he  went 
through  the  forest  of  Breceliande,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the 
voice  of  one  groaning  on  his  right  hand  ;  and,  looking  that  way, 
he  could  see  nothing  save  a  kind  of  smoke,  which  seemed  like 
air,  and  through  which  he  could  not  pass.  Merlin  then  ad- 
dressed him  from  out  the  smoke,  and  told  him  by  what  misad- 
venture he  was  imprisoned  there.  "  Ah,  sir  !"  he  added,  ^*  you 
will  never  see  me  more,  and  that  grieves  me,  but  I  cannot 
remedy  it ;  I  shall  never  more  speak  to  you,  nor  to  any  other 
person,  save  only  my  mistress.  But  do  thou  hasten  to  King 
Arthur,  and  charge  him  from  me  to  undertake,  without  delay, 
the  quest  of  the  Sacred  Grail.  The  knight  is  already  born,  and 
has  received  knighthood  at  his  hands,  who  is  destined  to  accom- 
plish this  quest. ' '  And  after  this  he  comforted  Gawain  under 
his  transformation,  assuring  him  that  he  should  speedily  be  dis- 
enchanted ;  and  he  predicted  to  him  that  he  should  find  the 
king  at  Carduel,  in  Wales,  on  his  return,  and  that  all  the  other 
knights  who  had  been  on  like  quest  would  arrive  there  the 
same  day  as  himself  And  all  this  came  to  pass  as  Merlin  had 
said. 

Merlin  is  frequently  introduced  in  the  tales  of  chivalry,  but  it 
is  chiefly  on  great  occasions,  and  at  a  period  subsequent  to  his 
death  or  magical  disappearance.  In  the  romantic  poems  of 
Italy,  and  in  Spenser,  Merlin  is  chiefly  represented  as  a  magical 
artist.  Spenser  represents  him  as  the  artificer  of  the  impene- 
trable shield  and  other  armor  of  Prince  Arthur : 

**  Merlin,  which  formerly  did  excel 
All  living  wights  in  mind  or  magic  spell, 
Both  shield  and  sword  and  armor  all  he  wrought 
For  this  young  prince."  — Faery  Queen. 

The  Fountain  of  Love,  in  the  Orlando  Innamorato,  is  de- 
scribed as  his  work ;  and  in  the  poem  of  Ariosto  we  are  told  of 
a  hall  adorned  with  prophetic  paintings,  which  demons  had  ex- 
ecuted in  a  single  night,  under  the  direction  of  Merlin  : 

*  *  This  is  the  ancient  memorable  cave 
Which  Merlin  the  Enchanter  sage  did  make." 

— Orlando  Furioso. 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIAN  3 1 

The  following  is  from  the  third  book  of  Spenser's  Faery 
Queen.  The  scene  is  laid  at  Caer-Merdin,  Merlin's  tower, 
where  he  met  his  tragic  end  : 

"  A  little  while 

Before  that  Merlin  died,  he  did  intend 

A  brazen  wall  in  compas  to  compile 

About  Caermerdin,  and  did  it  commend 

Unto  these  sprites  to  bring  to  perfect  end  ; 

During  which  work  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 

Whom  long  he  loved,  for  him  in  haste  did  send  ; 

Who,  thereby,  forced  his  workmen  to  forsake, 

Them  bound  till  liis  return  their  labor  not  to  slack. 

In  the  mean  time,  through  that  false  lady's  train, 

He  Mas  surprised,  and  buried  under  beare. 

Nor  ever  to  his  work  returned  again." 

Tennyson,  however,  ascribes  a  different  though  no  less  tragic 
end.  Merlin  and  Vivian  had  quarrelled.  He  had  accused  her 
of  falsity,  and  she  determined  to  leave  him  forever : 

•'  '  But  ere  I  leave  you  let  me  swear  once  more 
That  if  I  schemed  against  your  peace  in  this, 
May  yon  just  heaven,  that  darkens  o'er  me,  send 
One  flash,  that,  missing  all  things  else,  may  make 
My  scheming  brain  a  cinder,  if  I  lie.' 

* '  Scarce  had  she  ceased,  when  out  of  heaven  a  bolt 
(For  now  the  storm  was  close  above  them)  struck, 
Furrowing  a  giant  oak,  and  javelining 
With  darted  spikes  and  splinters  of  the  wood 
The  dark  earth  round.     He  raised  his  eyes  and  saw 
The  tree  that  shone  white-listed  through  the  gloom. 
But  Vivian,  fearing  Heaven  had  heard  her  oath, 
And  dazzled  by  the  livid  flickering  fork. 
And  deafen' d  with  the  stammering  cracks  and  claps 
That  follow' d,  flying  back  and  crying  out, 
'  O  Merlin,  though  you  do  not  love  me,  save, 
Yet  save  me  !' 

*'  Then  in  one  moment,  she  put  forth  the  charm 
Of  woven  paces  and  of  waving  hands, 
And  in  the  hollow  oak  he  lay  as  dead, 
And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and  fame." — Vivian. 

Merlin  has  been  variously  interpreted,  and  still  remains  a  sub- 
ject for  the  antiquarian.  He  has  ranked  all  the  way  from  a 
myth  to  a  seer.      An  ingenious  book  appeared  in  England  some 


3^ 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  ICNtGHTS. 


two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  in  which  it  was  claimed  that 
the  wars,  revolutions  and  national  disasters  that  have  come  upon 
England  were  all  foreshadowed  in  Merlin's  prophecies  : 

"  Merlin,  well  versed  in  many  a  hidden  spell, 
His  country's  omen  did  long  since  foretell." 

The  probabilities  are  that  the  truth  in  this  instance,  as  in 
most  others,  lies  somewhere  between  the  two  extremes.  But  the 
real  is  so  involved  in  the  mythical  that  to  discriminate  at  this 
distance  is  impossible. 


Vivien's  Charm 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Ar'thur—Constans — Arthur  Chosen  King — Guin'e- 

vere — The  Marriage  of  Arthur  and  Guin'e- 

vere — How  Tor   Became  a  Knight — 

Ga'w^ain's  Victory. 

Ar'thur. 

We  shall  begia  our  history  of  King  Arthur  by  giving  those 
particulars  of  his  life  which  appear  to  rest  on  historical  evidence  ; 
and  then  proceed  to  record  those  legends  concerning  him  which 
form  the  earliest  portion  of  British  literature. 

Arthur  was  a  prince  of  the  tribe  of  Britons  called  Silures, 
whose  country  was  South  Wales — the  son  of  Uther,  named 
Pendragon,  a  title  given  to  an  elective  sovereign,  paramount  over 
the  many  kings  of  Britain.  He  appears  to  have  commenced  his 
martial  career  about  the  year  five  hundred,  and  was  raised  to  the 
Pendragonship  about  ten  years  later.  He  is  said  to  have  gained 
twelve  victories  over  the  Saxons.  The  most  important  of  them 
was  that  of  Badon,  by  some  supposed  to  be  Bath,  by  others 
Berkshire.  This  was  the  last  of  his  battles  with  the  Saxons,  and 
checked  their  progress  so  effectually  that  Arthur  experienced  no 
more  annoyance  from  them,  and  reigned  in  peace  until  the  re- 
volt of  his  nephew  Modred,  twenty  years  later,  which  led  to  the 
fatal  battle  of  Camlan,  in  Cornwall,  in  five  hundred  and  forty- 
two.  Modred  was  slain,  and  Arthur,  mortally  wounded,  was 
conveyed  by  sea  to  Glastonbury,  where  he  died,  and  was  buried. 
Tradition  preserved  the  memory  of  the  place  of  his  interment 

S  .  (33) 


34  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

within  the  abbey,  as  we  are  told  by  one  who  was  present  when 
the  grave  was  opened  by  command  of  Henry  II.  about  the  year 
eleven  hundred  and  fifty,  and  saw  the  bones  and  sword  of  the 
monarch,  and  a  leaden  cross  let  into  his  tombstone,  with  the  in- 
scription in  rude  Roman  letters,  "Here  lies  buried  the  famous 
King  Arthur,  in  the  island  Avalonia." 

•'  Or  mythic  Uther's  deeply  wounded  fon. 
In  some  fair  space  of  sloping  greens. 
Lay  dozing  in  the  vale  of  Avalon, 
And  watched  by  weeping  queens." 

— Palace  of  Art. 

This  story  has  been  elegantly  versified  by  Warton.  A  popular 
traditional  belief  was  long  entertained  among  the  Britons  that 
Arthur  was  not  dead,  but  had  been  carried  off  to  be  healed  of 
his  wounds  in  Fairy-land,  and  that  he  would  reappear  to  avenge 
his  countrymen  and  reinstate  them  in  the  sovereignty  of  Britain. 
In  Warton' s  Ode  a  bard  relates  to  King  Henry  the  traditional 
story  of  Arthur's  death,  and  closes  with  these  lines: 

**  Yet  in  vain  a  paynim  foe 
Armed  with  fate  the  mighty  blow  ; 
For  when  he  fell,  the  Elfin  queen, 
All  in  secret  and  unseen, 
O'er  the  fainting  hero  threw 
Her  mantle  of  ambrosial  blue, 
And  bade  her  spirits  bear  him  far, 
In  Merlin's  agate-axled  car. 
To  her  green  isle's  enamelled  steep, 
Far  in  the  navel  of  the  deep. 
O'er  his  wounds  she  sprinkled  dew 
From  flowers  that  in  Arabia  grew. 
There  he  reigns  a  mighty  king, 
Thence  to  Britain  shall  return. 
If  right  prophetic  rolls  I  learn. 
Borne  on  victory's  spreading  plume. 
His  ancient  sceptre  to  resume. 
His  knightly  table  to  restore. 
And  brave  the  tournaments  of  yore.*' 

After   this   narration   another   bard   came   forward,  who  re- 
cited a  different  story : 


ARTHUR.  35 

**  "When  Arthur  bowed  his  haughty  crest, 
No  princess  veiled  in  azure  ve■^t 
Snatched  him,  by  Merlin's  powerful  spell, 
In  groves  of  golden  bliss  to  dwell  ; 
But  when  he  fell,  with  winged  speed. 
His  champions,  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
From  the  battle's  hurricane, 
Bore  him  to  Joseph's  towered  fane^ 
In  the  fair  vale  of  Avalon  ; 
There,  with  chanted  orison 
And  the  long  blaze  of  tapers  clear. 
The  stoled  fathers  met  the  bier  ; 
Through  the  dim  aisles,  in  order  dread 
Of  martial  woe,  the  chief  they  led. 
And  deep  entombed  in  holy  ground, 
Before  the  altar's  solemn  bound."  j^: 

It  must  not  be  concealed  that  the  very  existence  of  Arthur  has  | 
been  denied  by  some.     Milton  says  of  him:    ''As  to  Arthur,  -^■ 
more  renowned  in  songs  and  romances  than  in  true  stories,  who 
he  was,  and  whether  ever  any  such  reigned  in  Britain,  hath  been    ■ 
,  doubted  heretofore,  and  may  again,  with  good  reason. ' '    Modern 
critics,  however,  admit  that  there  was  a  prince  of  this  name,  and 
find  proof  of  it  in  the  frequent  mention  of  him  in  the  writings 
of  the  Welsh  bards.      But  the  Arthur  of  romance,  according  to 
Mr.  Owen,  a  Welsh  scholar  and  antiquarian,  is  a  mythological 
person.      ''Arthur,"   he  says,  "  is  the  Great  Bear,  as  the  name 
literally  implies  Arctos,  Arcturus,  and  perhaps  this  constellation, 
being  so  near  the  pole,  and  visibly  describing  a  circle  in  a  small 
space,  is  the  origin  of  the  famous  Round  Table  ' ' : 

'  *  Dost  thou  know  the  star 
We  call  the  Harp  of  Arthur  up  in  heaven?" 

— The  Last  Tournament. 

^  Let  us  now  turn  to  the  history  of  King  Arthur  as  recorded  by 
the  romantic  chroniclers. 

Constans. 

Constans,  King  of  Britain,  had  three  sons,  Moines,  Ambro- 
sius,  otherwise  called  Uther,  and  Pendragon.  Moines,  soon 
after  his  accession  to  the  crown,  was  vanquished  by  the  Saxons, 

^  Gla>tonbury  Abbey,  said  to  be  founded  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  in  a  spot 
anciently  called  the  island  or  valley  of  Avalonia. 


36  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

in  consequence  of  the  treachery  of  his  seneschal,  Vortigern,  and 
growing  unpopular,  through  misfortune,  he  was  killed  by  his 
subjects,  and  the  traitor  Vortigern  chosen  in  his  place. 

Vortigern  was  soon  after  defeated  in  a  great  battle  by  Uther 
and  Pendragon,  the  surviving  brothers  of  Moines,  and  Pendragon 
ascended  the  throne. 

This  prince  had  great  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  Merlin,  •- 
and  made  him  his  chief  adviser.    About  this  time  a  dreadful  war 
arose  between  the  Saxons  and  Britons  : 

"  For  many  a  petty  king  ere  Arthur  came 
Ruled  in  this  isle,  and  ever  waging  war 
Each  upon  the  other,  wasted  all  the  land." 

—Coming  of  Arthur. 

Merlin  obliged  the  royal  brothers  to  swear  fidelity  to  each  other, 
but  predicted  that  one  of  them  must  fall  in  the  first  battle.  The 
Saxons  were  routed,  and  Pendragon,  being  slain,  was  succeeded 
by  Uther,  who  now  assumed  in  addition  to  his  own  name  the 
appellation  of  Pendragon. 

Merlin  next  proceeded  to  Carlisle  to  prepare  the  Round  Table, 
at  which  he  seated  an  assemblage  of  the  great  nobles  of  the 
country.  The  companions  admitted  to  this  high  order  were 
bound  by  oath  to  assist  each  other  at  the  hazard  of  their  own 
lives,  to  attempt  singly  the  most  perilous  adventures,  to  lead, 
when  necessary,  a  life  of  monastic  solitude,  to  fly  to  arms  at  the 
first  summons,  and  never  to  retire  from  battle  till  they  had  de- 
feated the  enemy,  unless  night  intervened  and  separated  the  com- 
batants : 

"It  was  the  time  when  the  first  the  question  rose 
About  the  founding  of  a  Table  Round." — Vivian. 

Soon  after  this  institution  the  king  invited  all  his  barons  to  the 
celebration  of  a  great  festival,  which  he  proposed  holding  annu- 
ally at  Carlisle. 

As  the  knights  nad  obtained  the  sovereign's  permission  to 
bring  their  ladies  along  with  them,  the  beautiful  Igerne  accom- 
panied her  husband,  Gorlois,  Duke  of  Tintadiel,  to  one  of  these 
anniversaries.  The  king  became  deeply  enamored  of  the 
Duchess,  and  disclosed  his  passion  ;  but  Igerne  repelled  his  ad- 
vances, and  revealed  his  solicitations  to  her  husband.     On  hear- 


CONSTANS. 


37 


ing  this,  the  Duke  instantly  removed  from  court  with  Igerne, 
and  without  taking  leave  of  Uther.  The  king  complained  to 
his  council  of  this  want  of  duty,  and  they  decided  that  the  Duke 
should  be  summoned  to  court,  and,  if  refractory,  should  be 
treated  as  a  rebel.  As  he  refused  to  obey  the  citation,  the  king 
carried  war  into  the  estates  of  his  vassal,  and  besieged  him  in  the 
strong  castle  of  Tintadiel.  Merlin  transformed  the  king  into 
the  likeness  of  Gorlois,  and  enabled  him  to  have  many  stolen 
interviews  with  Igerne.  At  length  the  Duke  was  killed  in  bat- 
tle, and  the  king  espoused  Igerne. 

From  this  union  sprang  Arthur,  who   succeeded  his  father, 
Uther,  upon  the  throne : 


The  Finding  of  Arlhur. 


*<  And  that  night  the  bard 
Sang  Arthur's  glorious  wars,  and  sang  the  King 
As  well-nigh  more  than  man,  and  rail'd  at  those 
NVho  call'd  him  the  false  son  of  Gorlois  ; 
For  there  was  no  man  knew  from  whence  he  came  ; 
But  after  tempest,  when  the  long  wave  broke 
All  down  the  thundering  shores  of  Bude  and  Bos, 
There  came  a  day  as  still  as  heaven,  and  then 


38  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

They  found  a  naked  child  upon  the  sands 
Of  dark  Dundagil  by  the  Cornish  sea  ; 
And  that  was  Arthur  ;  and  they  foster' d  him 
Till  he  by  miracle  was  approven  king  : 
And  that  his  grave  should  be  a  mystery 
From  all  men,  like  his  birth." — Guinevere. 

Arthur  Chosen  King. 

Arthur,  though  only  fifteen  years  old  at  his  father's  death,  was 
elected  king  at  a  general  meeting  of  the  nobles.  It  was  not  done 
without  opposition,  for  there  were  many  ambitious  competitors : 

**  For  while  he  linger' d  there 
A  doubt  that  ever  smoulder' d  in  the  hearts 
Of  those  great  Lords  and  Barons  of  his  realm 
Flash' d  forth  and  into  war  :  for  most  of  these 
Made  head  against  him,  crying,  *  Who  is  he 
That  he  should  rule  us  ?  who  hath  proven  him 
King  Uther's  son  ?  for  lo  !  we  look  at  him, 
And  find  nor  face  nor  bearing,  limbs  nor  voice, 
Are  like  to  those  of  Uther  whom  we  knew." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

But  Bishop  Brice,  a  person  of  great  sanctity,  on  Christmas  eve 
addressed  the  assembly,  and  represented  that  it  would  well  be- 
come them,  at  that  solemn  season,  to  put  up  their  prayers  for 
some  token  which  should  manifest  the  intentions  of  Providence 
respecting  their  future  sovereign.  This  was  done,  and  with  such 
success  that  the  service  was  scarcely  ended  when  a  miraculous 
stone  was  discovered  before  the  church  door,  and  in  the  stone 
was  firmly  fixed  a  sword,  with  the  following  words  engraven  on 
its  hilt : 

"  I  am  hight  Escalibore, 
Unto  a  king  fair  tresore." 

Bishop  Brice,  after  exhorting  the  assembly  to  offer  up  their 
thanksgivings  for  this  signal  miracle,  proposed  a  law  that  who- 
ever should  be  able  to  draw  out  the  sword  from  the  stone  should 
be  acknowledged  as  sovereign  of  the  Britons  ;  and  his  proposal 
was  decreed  by  general  acclamation.  The  tributary  kings  of 
Uther  and  the  most  famous  knights  successively  put  their  strength 
to  the  proof,  but  the  miraculous  sword  resisted  all  their  efforts. 
It  stood  till  Candlemas ;  it  stood  till  Easter,  and  till  Pentecost, 


ARTHUR  CHOSEN  KING.  39 

when  the  best  knights  in  the  kingdom  usually  assembled  for  the 
annual  tournament.  Arthur,  who  was  at  that  time  serving  in 
the  capacity  of  squire  to  his  foster-brother  Sir  Kay,  attended  his 
master  to  the  lists.  Sir  Kay  fought  with  great  valor  and  suc- 
cess, but  had  the  misfortune  to  break  his  sword,  and  sent  Arthur 
to  his  mother  for  a  new  one.  Arthur  hastened  home,  but  did 
not  find  the  lady ;  but  having  observed  near  the  church  a  sword 
sticking  in  a  stone,  he  galloped  to  the  place,  drew  out  the  sword 
with  great  ease,  and  delivered  it  to  his  master.'  Sir  Klay  would 
willingly  have  assumed  to  himself  the  distinction  conferred  by 
the  possession  of  the  sword ;  but  when,  to  confirm  the  doubters, 
the  sword  was  replaced  in  the  stone,  he  was  utterly  unable  to 
withdraw  it,  and  it  would  yield  a  second  time  to  no  hand  but 
Arthur's.  Thus  decisively  pointed  out  by  Heaven  as  their  king, 
Arthur  was,  by  general  consent,  proclaimed  as  such,  and  an  early 
day  appointed  for  his  solemn  coronation  : 

**  And  near  him  stood  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,— 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful. 
She  gave  the  king  his  huge  cross-hilted  sword. 
Whereby  to  drive  the  heathen  out :  a  mist 
Of  incense  curl'd  about  her,  and  her  face 
Well-nigh  was  hidden  in  the  minster  gloom. 
But  there  was  heard  among  the  holy  hymns 
A  voice  as  of  the  waters,  for  she  dwells 
Down  in  a  deep,  calm,  whatsoever  storms 
May  shake  the  world,  and,  when  the  surface  rolls, 
Hath  power  to  walk  the  waters  like  our  Lord." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

Immediately  after  his  election  to  the  crown,  Arthur  found 
himself  opposed  by  eleven  kings  and  one  duke,  who  with  a  vast 
army  were  actually  encamped  in  the  forest  of  Rockingham  : 

*'  Yet  Merlin  thro'  his  craft 
Had  Arthur  crown' d  ;  but  after,  the  great  lords 
Banded,  and  so  brake  out  in  open  war." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

By  Merlin's  advice  Arthur  sent  an  embassy  to  Brittany  to  solicit 
the  aid  of  King  Ban  and  King  Bohort,  two  of  the  best  knights 

1  A  similar  instance  is  recorded  of  Theseus,  "  Age  of  Fable,"  page  191. 


40  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

in  the  world.  They  accepted  the  call,  and  with  a  powerful 
army  crossed  the  sea,  landing  at  Portsmouth,  where  they  were 
received  with  great  rejoicing.  The  rebel  kings  were  still  supe- 
rior in  numbers ;  but  Merlin,  by  a  powerful  enchantment, 
caused  all  their  tents  to  fall  down  at  once,  and  in  the  confusion 
Arthur  with  his  allies  fell  upon  them  and  totally  routed  them : 

I  **  When  Arthur  first  his  court  began, 

And  was  approved  king, 
By  force  of  arms  great  victories  won, 
And  conquests  home  did  bring." — Percy's  Reliques. 

After  defeating  the  rebels,  Arthur  took  the  field  against  the 
Saxons.  As  they  were  too  strong  for  him  unaided,  he  sent  an 
embassy  to  Armorica,  beseeching  the  assistance  of  Hoel,  who 
soon  after  brought  over  an  army  to  his  aid.  The  two  kings 
joined  their  forces,  and  sought  the  enemy,  whom  they  met,  and 
both  sides  prepared  for  a  decisive  engagement.  ^^  Arthur  him- 
self," as  Gcjoffrey  of  Monmouth  relates,  'Pressed  in  a  breast- 
plate worthy  of  so  great  a  king,  places  on  his  head  a  golden 
helmet  engraved  with  the  semblance  of  a  dragon.  Over  his 
shoulders  he  throws  his  shield  called  Priwen,  on  which  a  picture 
of  the  Holy  Virgin  constantly  recalled  her  to  his  memory.  Girt 
with  Excalibur,  a  most  excellent  sword,  and  fabricated  in  the 
isle  of  Avalon,  he  graces  his  right  hand  with  the  lance  named 
Ron.  This  was  a  long  and  broad  spear,  well  contrived  for 
slaughter."  After  a  severe  conflict,  Arthur,  calhng  on  the 
name  of  the  Virgin,  rushes  into  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  and 
destroys  multitudes  of  them  with  the  formidable  Excalibur,  and 
puts  the  rest  to  flight.  Hoel,  being  detained  by  sickness,  took 
no  part  in  this  battle. 

This  is  called  the  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  and,  however  dis- 
guised by  fable,  it  is  regarded  by  historians  as  a  real  event : 

"  They  sung  how  he  himself  at  Badon  bore,  that  day. 
When  at  the  glorious  goal  his  British  scepter  lay  ; 
Two  daies  together  how  the  battel  stronglie  stood  ; 
Pendragon's  vvorthie  son,  who  waded  there  in  blood, 
Three  hundred  Saxons  slew  with  his  owne  valiant  hand." 

— Drayton, 


• 


GUINEVERE.  4I 

Guin'e-vere. 

Merlin  had  planned  for  Arthur  a  marriage  with  the  daughter 
of  King  Laodegan  of  Carmalide : 

**  Leodogran,  the  King  of  Cameliard, 
Had  one  fair  daughter,  and  none  other  child  ; 
And  she  was  fairest  of  all  flesh  on  earth, 
Guinevere,  and  in  her  his  one  deUght." 

• — Coming  of  Arthur. 

By  his  advice  Arthur  paid  a  visit  to  the  court  of  that  sovereign, 
attended  only  by  Merlin  and  by  thirty-nine  knights  whom  the 
magician  had  selected  for  that  service.  On  their  arrival  they 
found  Laodegan  and  his  peers  sitting  in  council,  endeavoring, 
but  with  small  prospect  of  success,  to  devise  means  of  resisting 
the  impending  attack  of  Ryence,  King  of  Ireland,  who,  with 
fifteen  tributary  kings  and  an  almost  innumerable  army,  had 
nearly  surrounded  the  city.  Merlin,  who  acted  as  leader  of  the 
band  of  British  knights,  announced  them  as  strangers,  who 
came  to  offer  the  king  their  services  in  his  wars ;  but  under  the 
express  condition  that  they  should  be  at  liberty  to  conceal  their 
names  and  quality  until  they  should  think  proper  to  divulge 
them.  These  terms  were  thought  very  strange,  but  were  thank- 
fully accepted,  and  the  strangers,  after  taking  the  usual  oath  to 
the  king,  retired  to  the  lodging  which  Merlin  had  prepared  for 

them : 

*'  A  doubtful  throne  is  ice  on  summer  seas — 
Ye  come  from  Arthur' s  court  :  think  ye  this  king — 
So  few  his  knights,  however  brave  they  be — 
Hath  body  enow  to  beat  his  foemen  down  ?' ' 

■ — Coming  of  Arthur. 

A  few  days  after  this  the  enemy,  regardless  of  a  truce  into 
which  they  had  entered  with  King  Laodegan,  suddenly  issued 
from  their  camp  and  made  an  attempt  to  surprise  the  city. 
Cleodalis,  the  king's  general,  assembled  the  royal  forces  with 
all  possible  despatch.  Arthur  and  his  companions  also  flew  to 
arms,  and  Merlin  appeared  at  their  head,  bearing  a  standard  on 
which  was  emblazoned  a  terrific  dragon.  Merlin  advanced  to 
the  gate  and  commanded  the  porter  to  open  it,  which  the  porter 
refused  to  do  without  the  king's  order.     Merlin  thereupon  took 


42  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

up  the  gate,  with  all  its  appurtenances  of  locks,  bars  and  bolts, 
and  directed  his  troop  to  pass  through,  after  which  he  replaced 
it  in  perfect  order.  He  then  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  dashed, 
at  the  head  of  his  little  troop,  into  a  body  of  two  thousand  Pa- 
gans. The  disparity  of  numbers  being  so  enormous,  Merlin  cast 
a  spell  upon  the  enemy,  so  as  to  prevent  their  seeing  the  small 
number  of  their  assailants;  notwithstanding  which  the  British 
knights  were  hard  pressed.  But  the  people  of  the  city,  who 
saw  from  the  walls  this  unequal  contest,  were  ashamed  of  leav- 
ing the  small  body  of  strangers  to  their  fate,  so  they  opened  the 

gate  and  sallied  forth  : 

'*  And  Guinevere 
Stood  by  the  castle  walls  to  watch  him  pass  j 
But  since  he  neither  wore  on  helm  or  shield 
The  golden  symbol  of  his  kinglihood, 
But  rode  a  simple  knight  among  his  knights, 
And  many  of  these  in  richer  arms  than  he, 
She  saw  him  not,  or  mark'd  not,  if  she  saw, 
One  among  many,  tho'  his  face  was  bare. 
But  Arthur,  looking  downward  as  he  past, 
Felt  the  light  of  her  eyes  into  his  life." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

The  numbers  were  now  more  nearly  equal,  and  Merlin  revoked 
his  spell,  so  that  the  two  armies  encountered  on  fair  terms. 
Where  Arthur,  Ban,  Bohort,  and  the  rest  fought,  the  king's  army 
had  the  advantage  ;  but  in  another  part  of  the  field  the  king 
himself  was  surrounded  and  carried  off  by  the  enemy.  This 
sad  sight  was  seen  by  Guinevere,  the  fair  daughter  of  the  king, 
who  stood  on  the  city  wall  and  looked  at  the  battle.  She  was 
in  dreadful  distress,  tore  her  hair,  and  swooned  away. 

But  Merlin,  aware  of  what  passed  in  every  part  of  the  field, 
suddenly  collected  his  knights,  led  them  out  of  the  battle,  inter- 
cepted the  passage  of  the  party  who  were  carrying  away  the 
king,  charged  them  with  irresistible  impetuosity,  cut  in  pieces 
or  dispersed  the  whole  escort,  and  rescued  the  king.  In  the 
fight  Arthur  encountered  Caulang,  a  giant  fifteen  feet  high,  and 
the  fair  Guinevere,  who  already  began  to  feel  a  strong  interest 
in  the  handsome  young  stranger,  trembled  for  the  issue  of  the 
contest.  But  Arthur,  dealing  a  dreadful  blow  on  the  slioulder 
of  the  monster,  cut  through  his  neck  so  that  his  head  hung  over 


GUINEVERE. 


43 


on  one  side,  and  in  this  condition  his  horse  carried  him  about 
the  field,  to  the  great  horror  and  dismay  of  the  Pagans.  Guin- 
evere could  not  refrain  from  expressing  aloud  her  wish  that  the 
gentle  knight,  who  dealt  with  giants  so  dexterously,  were  des- 
tined to  become  her  husband,  and  the  wish  was  echoed  by  her 
attendants : 

*'  She  saw, 
Wet  with  the  mists  and  smitten  by  the  lights, 
The  Dragon  of  the  great  Pendragonship 
Blaze,  making  all  the  night  a  steam  of  fire." — Guinevere. 

The  enemy  soon  turned  their  backs,  and  fled  with  precipitation, 
closely  pursued  by  Laodegan  and  his  allies. 

After  the  battle  Arthur  was  disarmed  and  conducted  to  the 
bath  by  the  Princess  Guinevere,  while  his  friends  were  attended 
by  the  other  ladies  of  the  court.  After  the  bath  the  knights 
were  conducted  to  a  magnificent  entertainment,  at  which  they 
were  diligently  served  by  the  same  fair  attendants.  Laodegan, 
more  and  more  anxious  to  know  the  name  and  quality  of  his 
generous  deliverers,  and  occasionally  forming  a  secret  wish  that 
the  chief  of  his  guests  might  be  captivated  by  the  charms  of  his 
daughter,  appeared  silent  and  pensive,  and  was  scarcely  roused 
from  his  reverie  by  the  banters  of  his  courtiers  : 

**  Fear  not  to  give  this  king  thine  only  child, 
Guinevere :  so  great  bards  of  him  will  sing 
Hereafter,  and  dark  sayings  from  of  old 
Raging  and  ringing  thro'  the  minds  of  men. 
And  echo'd  by  old  folk  beside  their  fires 
For  comfort  after  their  wage-work  is  done. 
Speak  of  the  king," — Coming  of  Arthur. 

Arthur,  having  had  an  opportunity  of  explaining  to  Guinevere 
his  great  esteem  for  her  merit,  was  in  the  joy  of  his  heart,  and 
was  still  further  delighted  by  hearing  from  Merlin  the  late  ex- 
ploits of  Gawain  at  London,  by  means  of  which  his  immediate 
return  to  his  dominions  was  rendered  unnecessary,  and  he  was 
left  at  liberty  to  protract  his  stay  at  the  court  of  Laodegan. 
Every  day  contributed  to  increase  the  admiration  of  the  whole 
court  for  the  gallant  strangers,  and  the  passion  of  Guinevere  for 
their  chief;  and  when  at  last  Merlin  announced  to  the  king  that 
the  object  of  the  visit  of  the  party  was  to  procure  a  bride  for 


44  J^INO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

their  leader,  Laodegan  at  once  presented  Guinevere  to  Arthur, 
telling  him  that,  whatever  might  be  his  rank,  his  merit  was  suf- 
ficient to  entitle  him  to  the  possession  of  the  heiress  of  Car- 
malide : 

**  And  could  he  find  a  woman  in  her  womanhood  ' 

As  great  as  he  was  in  his  manhood — 

The  twain  together  might  change  the  world." — Guinevere. 

i  Arthur  accepted  the  lady  with  the  utmost  gratitude,  and  Merlin 
then  proceeded  to  satisfy  the  king  of  the  rank  of  his  son-in-law  ; 
upon  which  Laodegan,  with  all  his  barons,  hastened  to  do 
homage  to  their  lawful  sovereign,  the  successor  of  Uther  Pen- 
dragon. 

The  Marriage  of  Arthur  and  Guinevere. 

The  fair  Guinevere  was  then  solemnly  betrothed  to  Arthur, 
and  a  magnificent  festival  was  proclaimed,  which  lasted  seven 

days : 

"  The  king 
That  morn  was  married,  while  in  stainless  white, 
The  fair  beginners  of  a  nobler  time, 
And  glorying  in  their  vows  and  him,  his  knights 
Stood  round  him,  and  rejoicing  in  his  joy. 
And  holy  Dubric  spread  his  hands  and  spake, 
*  Reign  ye,  and  live  and  love,  and  make  the  world 
Other,  and  may  thy  Queen  be  one  with  thee, 
And  all  this  Order  of  thy  Table  Round 
Fulfil  the  boundless  purpose  of  their  king." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

King  Arthur,  as  was  customary  at  royal  weddings,  granted 
boons  to  all  his  subjects,  which  leads  us  to  relate 

How  Tor  Became  a  Knight. 

One  day  during  the  wedding  festivities  of  the  king  a  poor 
peasant  came  into  his  court  riding  upon  a  lean  horse.  He  was 
accompanied  by  a  fair  young  man  of  eighteen  years.  The 
peasant  asked  of  each  one  whom  he  met,  ''Where  shall  I  find 
King  Arthur?"  ''Yonder  he  is,"  was  the  reply  ;  "wilt  thou 
anything  with  him?"  "Yea,"  said  the  poor  man  ;  "  therefore 
came  I  hither."  He  then  approached  the  king  and  cried  :  "  O 
King  Arthur,   the  flower  of  all   knights  and  kings,  I  beseech 


Guinevere. 


l\^- 


HOW  TOR  BECAME  A  KNIGHT.  45 

Jesus  save  thee.  Sir,  I  was  told  that  at  this  time  of  thy  mar- 
riage thou  wouldst  grant  any  request  except  it  were  unreason- 
able." "  Such  is  true,"  said  the  king,  ''and  so  will  I  do  jf  it 
touch  not  my  estate  or  my  kingdom."  ''Ye  say  well,"  ex- 
claimed the  peasant,  "and  I  ask  nothing  else  but  ye  will 
make  my  son  here  a  knight."  "  It  is  a  great  thing  ye  ask  of 
me,"  said  the  king;  "but  what  is  thy  name?"  "Sir,"  re- 
plied the  poor  man,  "my  name  is  Aries  the  Cowherd." 
"Whether  cometh  this  of  thee  or  thy  son?"  asked  the  king. 
"  Nay,  sir,"  said  Aries,  "  this  desire  cometh  of  my  son,  and  not 
of  me."  He  then  told  the  king  that  he  had  thirteen  sons,  all 
of  whom  were  willing  to  labor  save  Tor,  who  refused  to  do  any 
work  whatever,  but  only  delighted  in  fighting,  shooting,  and 
had  no  wish  but  to  be  a  knight.  "  What  is  thy  name  ?"  asked 
the  king  of  the  young  man.  "  Sir,"  he  replied,  "my  name  is 
Tor." 

The  king  then  ordered  Aries  the  Cowherd  to  bring  his  thir- 
teen sons  before  him,  which  he  did.  They  all  resembled  their 
father  but  Tor,  who  bore  him  no  resemblance  at  all.  "  Now," 
said  the  king  unto  Aries,  "where  i§  -the  sword,  that  he  shall  be 
made  a  knight  withal ?"  "It  is  here,"  said  Tor.  The  king 
ordered  him  to  dismount  and  request  knighthood.  This  the 
young  man  did ;  and  kneeling  before  the  king  prayed  that  he 
might  be  made  one  of  the  Round  Table.  King  Arthur  smote 
him  upon  the  neck  and  said  :  "  Be  ye  a  good  knight,  so  I  pray 
God,  and  if  ye  be  found  worthy  ye  shall  belong  to  the  Round 
Table."  The  king  then  turned  to  Merlin  and  demanded 
whether  or  no  Tor  would  prove  himself  a  good  knight.  "Yes, 
sir,  he  ought  to,"  Merlin  replied,  "  for  he  is  of  kingly  blood." 
"  How  so  ?"  asked  King  Arthur.  Then  Merlin  told  the  king 
that  Aries  the  Cowherd  was  of  no  kin  to  the  boy,  but  his  father 
was  none  other  than  Pellenore  himself.  The  next  day  King 
Pellenore  came  to  the  court,  and  was  overjoyed  to  see  his  son 
and  know  that  he  had  been  knighted  by  Sir  Arthur.  So  Tor 
was  the  first  knight  made  by  the  king  in  honor  of  his  marriage 
with  Queen  Guinevere.  He  was  a  brother  to  the  unfortunate 
Elaine,  the  plain,  blunt  man  of  all  the  court. 

**  Then  the  rough  Tor  began  to  heave  and  move, 
And  bluster  with  stormy  sobs." — Elaine. 


46  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Ga'wain's  Victory. 

We  must  now  relate  what  took  place  at  and  near  London 
while  Arthur  was  absent  from  his  capital.  At  this  very  time  a 
band  of  young  heroes  were  on  their  way  to  Arthur's  court  for 
the  purpose  of  receiving  knighthood  from  him.  They  were 
Gawain  and  his  three  brothers,  nephews  of  Arthur,  sons  of  King 
Lot,  and  Galachin,  another  nephew,  son  of  King  Nanters. 
King  Lot  had  been  one  of  the  rebel  chiefs  whom  Arthur  had 
defeated,  but  he  now  hoped  by  means  of  the  young  men  to  be 
reconciled  to  his  brother-in-law.  He  equipped  his  sons  and  his 
nephew  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  giving  them  a  splendid 
retinue  of  young  men,  sons  of  earls  and  barons,  all  mounted  on 
the  best  horses,  with  complete  suits  of  choice  armor.  They 
numbered  in  all  seven  hundred,  but  only  nine  had  yet  received 
the  order  of  knighthood ;  the  rest  were  candidates  for  that 
honor,  and  anxious  to  earn  it  by  an  early  encounter  with  the 
enemy.  Gawain,  the  leader,  was  a  knight  of  wonderful 
strength ;  but  what  was  most  remarkable  about  him  was  that  his 
strength  was  greater  at  certain  hours  of  the  day  than  at  others. 
From  nine  o'clock  till  noon  his  strength  was  doubled,  and  so  it 
was  from  three  to  even-song ;  for  the  rest  of  the  time  it  was 
less  remarkable,  though  at  all  times  surpassing  that  of  ordinary 
men. 

After  a  march  of  three  days  they  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of 
London,  where  they  expected  to  find  Arthur  and  his  court ;  and 
very  unexpectedly  fell  in  with  a  large  convoy  belonging  to  the 
enemy,  consisting  of  numerous  carts  and  w^agons,  all  loaded 
with  provisions,  and  escorted  by  three  thousand  men,  who  had 
been  collecting  spoil  from  all  the  country  round.  A  single 
charge  from  Gawain' s  impetuous  cavalry  was  sufficient  to  dis- 
perse the  escort  and  recover  the  convoy,  which  was  instantly 
despatched  to  London.  But  before  long  a  body  of  seven  thou- 
sand fresh  soldiers  advanced  to  the  attack  of  the  five  princes  and 
their  little  army.  Gawain,  singling  out  a  chief  named  Choas, 
of  gigantic  size,  began  the  battle  by  splitting  him  from  the 
crown  of  the  head  to  the  breast.  Thus  they  kept  the  great  army 
of  assailants  at  bay,  though  hard  pressed,  till  of  a  sudden  they 
perceived  a  strong  body  of  the  citizens  advancing  from  London, 
where  the  convoy  which  htad  been  recovered  by  Gawain  had 


O A  WAIN'S  VICTORY. 


47 


arrived,  and  informed  the  mayor  and  citizens  of  the  danger  of 
their  deliverer.  The  arrival  of  the  Londoners  soon  decided  the 
contest.  The  enemy  fled  in  all  directions,  and  Gawain  and  his 
friends,  escorted  by  the  grateful  citizens,  entered  London,  and 
were  received  with  acclamations. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Ar'thur  (continued) — His  Coronation — He  Slays 

St.   Michael's   Giant — Gets  a  Sword  from 

the  Lady  of  the  Lake. 


Ar'thur. 

After  the  great  victory  of 
Mount  Badon,  by  which  the  Saxons 
were  for  the  time  effectually  put 
down,  Arthur  turned  his  arms 
against  the  Scots  and  Picts,  whom 
he  routed  at  Lake  Lomond,  and 
compelled  to  sue  for  mercy.  He 
then  went  to  York,  and  employed 
himself  in  restoring  the  Christian 
churches  which  the  Pagans  had 
rifled  and  overthrown.  The  fol- 
lowing summer  he  conquered  Ire- 
land, and  then  made  a  voyage 
with  his  fleet  to  Iceland,  which  he 
also  subdued.  The  kings  of  Goth- 
land and  of  the  Orkneys  came  vol- 
untarily and  made  their  submis- 
sion, promising  to  pay  tribute. 
Then  he  returned  to  Britain, 
where,  having  established  the 
kingdom,  he  dwelt  twelve  years  in 
peace. 

During  this  time  he  invited 
over  to  him  all  persons  whatsoever 
that  were  famous  for  valor  in  foreign  nations,  and  augmented  the 
number  of  his  domestics,  and  introduced  such  politeness  into  his 
court  as  people  of  the  remotest  countries  thought  worthy  of  their 
imitation.     So  that  there  was  not  a  nobleman  who  thought  him- 

U8J 


ARTHUR.  49 

self  of  any  consideration  unless  his  clothes  and  arms  were  made 
in  the  same  fashion  as  those  of  Arthur's  knights. 

Finding  himself  so  powerful  at  home,  Arthur  began  to  form 
designs  for  extending  his  power  abroad.  So,  having  prepared 
his  fleet,  he  first  attempted  Norway,  that  he  might  procure  the 
crown  of  it  for  Lot,  his  sister's  husband.  Arthur  landed  in 
Norway,  fought  a  great  battle  with  the  king  of  that  country,  de- 
feated him,  and  pursued  the  victory  till  he  had  reduced  the 
whole  country  under  his  dominion  and  established  Lot  upon  the 
throne.  Then  Arthur  made  a  voyage  to  Gaul  and  laid  siege  to 
the  city  of  Paris.  Gaul  was  at  that  time  a  Roman  province,  and 
governed  by  Flollo,  the  Tribune.  When  the  siege  of  Paris  had 
continued  a  month,  and  the  people  began  to  suffer  from  famine, 
Flollo  challenged  Arthur  to  single  combat,  proposing  to  decide 
the  conquest  of  the  province  in  that  way.  Arthur  gladly  ac- 
cepted the  challenge,  and  slew  his  adversary  in  the  contest,  upon 
which  the  citizens  surrendered  the  city  to  him : 

"  I  conquered  all  Gallya, 
That  now  is  called  France, 
And  slew  the  hardye  Floll  in  feild 
My  honor  to  advance." — Percy's  Reliques. 

After  the  victory  Arthur  divided  his  army  into  two  parts,  one  of 
which  he  committed  to  the  conduct  of  Hoel,  while  he  with  the 
other  part  should  endeavor  to  subdue  the  other  provinces.  At 
the  end  of  nine  years,  in  which  time  all  the  parts  of  Gaul  were 
entirely  reduced,  Arthur  returned  to  Paris,  and,  calling  an 
assembly  of  the  clergy  and  people,  established  peace  and  the  just 
administration  of  the  laws  in  that  kingdom.  Then  he  bestowed 
Normandy  upon  Bedver,  his  butler,  and  the  province  of  Ande- 
gavia  upon  Kay,  his  steward,'  and  several  other  provinces  upon 
his  great  men  that  attended  him  : 

**What  doest  thou,  scullion,  in  my  fellowship? 
Deem'  st  thou  that  I  accept  thee  aught  the  more 
Or  love  thee  better,  that  by  some  device 
Full  cowardly,  or  by  mere  unhappiness, 

1  This  name,  in  the  French  romances,  is  spelled  Queux,  which  means  head 
cook.  He  is  the  Seneschal  or  Steward,  his  duties  also  embracing  those  of 
chief  of  the  cooks. 

4 


50  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Thou  hast  overthrown  and  slain  thy  master — thou  ! — 

Dish-washer  and  broach -turner,  loon  ! — to  me 

Thou  smellest  all  of  kitchen  as  before," — Gareth  and  Lynette. 

And,  having  settled  the  peace  of  the  cities  and  countries,  he  re- 
turned back  in  the  beginning  of  spring  to  Britain. 

Arthur's  Coronation. 

Upon  the  approach  of  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Arthur  resolved, 
during  that  season,  to  hold  a  magnificent  court,  to  place  the 
crown  upon  his  head,  and  to  invite  all  the  kings  and  dukes  under 
his  subjection  to  the  solemnity.  And  he  pitched  upon  Caerleon, 
the  City  of  Legions,  as  the  proper  place  for  his  purpose.  For, 
besides  its  great  wealth  above  the  other  cities,^  its  situation  upon 
the  river  Usk,  near  the  Severn  sea,  was  most  pleasant  and  fit  for 
so  great  a  solemnity.  For  on  one  side  it  was  washed  by  that 
noble  river,  so  that  the  kings  and  princes  from  the  countries  be- 
yond  the  seas  might  have  the  convenience  of  sailing  up  to  it. 
On  the  other  side  the  beauty  of  the  meadows  and  groves,  and 
magnificence  of  the  royal  palaces,  with  lofty  gilded  roofs  that 
adorned  it,  made  it  even  rival  the  grandeur  of  Rome.  It  was 
also  famous  for  two  churches,  whereof  one  was  adorned  with  a 
choir  of  virgins,  who  devoted  themselves  wholly  to  the -service 
of  God,  and  the  other  maintained  a  convent  of  priests.  Be- 
sides, there  was  a  college  of  two  hundred  philosophers,  who, 
being  learned  in  astronomy  and  the  other  arts,  were  diligent  in 
observing  the  courses  of  the  stars,  and  gave  Arthur  true  predic- 
tions of  the  events  that  would  happen.  In  this  place,  there- 
fore, which  afforded  such  delights,  were  preparations  made  for 
the  ensuing  festival. 

Ambassadors  were  then  sent  into  several  kingdoms  to  invite  to 
court  the  princes  both  of  Gaul  and  of  the  adjacent  islands. 
Accordingly  there  came  Augusel,  King  of  Albania,  now  Scot- 

1  Several  cities  are  allotted  to  King  Arthur  by  the  romance-writers.  The 
principal  are  Caerleon,  Camelot  and  Carlisle. 

Caerleon  derives  its  name  from  its  having  been  the  station  of  one  of  the 
legions  during  the  dominion  of  the  Romans. 

Camelot  is  thought  to  be  Winchester, 

Shalott  is  Guildford. 

Hamo's  Port  is  Southampton. 

Carlisle  is  the  city  still  retaining  that  name,  near  the  Scottish  border. 


ARTHUR'S  CORONA  TION.  5 1 

land ;  Cadwallo,  King  of  Venedotia,  now  North  Wales ;  Sater, 
King  of  Demetia,  now  South  Wales  ;  also  the  archbishops  of  the 
metropolitan  sees,  London  and  York,  and  Dubricius,  Bishop  of 
Caerleon,  the  City  of  Legions.  This  prelate,  who  was  primate 
of  Britain,  was  so  eminent  for  his  piety  that  he  could  cure 
any  sick  person  by  his  prayers.  There  were  also  the  counts 
of  the  principal  cities,  and  many  other  worthies  of  no  less  dig- 
nity. 

From  the  adjacent  islands  came  Guillamurius,  King  of  Ire- 
land ;  Gunfasius,  King  of  the  Orkneys ;  Malvasius,  King  of  Ice- 
land ;  Lot,  King  of  Norway  ;  Bedver,  the  butler,  Duke  of  Nor- 
mandy ;  Kay,  the  sewer,  Duke  of  Andegavia ;  also  the  twelve 
peers  of  Gaul,  and  Hoel,  Duke  of  the  Armorican  Britons,  with 
his  nobility,  who  came  with  such  a  train  of  mules,  horses  and 
rich  furniture  as  it  is  difhcult  to  describe.  Besides  these,  there 
remained  no  prince  of  any  consideration  on  this  side  of  Spain 
who  came  not  upon  this  invitation. 

When  all  were  assembled,  upon  the  day  of  the  solemnity,  the 
archbishops  were  conducted  to  the  palace  in  order  to  place  the 
crown  upon  the  king's  head.  Then  Dubricius,  the  archbishop, 
inasmuch  as  the  court  was  held  in  his  diocese,  made  himself 
ready  to  celebrate  the  office.  As  soon  as  the  king  was  invested 
with  his  royal  habiliments,  he  was  conducted  in  great  pomp  to 
the  metropolitan  church,  having  four  kings,  viz.,  of  Albania, 
Cornwall,  Demetia  and  Venedotia,  bearing  four  golden  swords 
before  him.  On  another  part  was  the  queen,  dressed  out  in  her 
richest  ornaments,  conducted  by  the  archbishops  and  bishops 
to  the  Church  of  Virgins ;  the  four  queens,  also,  of  the  kings 
last  mentioned,  bearing  before  her  four  white  doves,  according  to 
ancient  custom.  When  the  whole  procession  was  ended,  so 
transporting  was  the  harmony  of  the  musical  instruments  and 
voices,  whereof  there  was  a  vast  variety  in  both  churches,  that 
the  knights  who  attended  were  in  doubt  which  to  prefer,  and 
therefore  crowded  from  the  one  to  the  other  by  turns.  At  last, 
when  divine  service  was  over  at  both  churches,  the  king  and 
queen  put  off  their  crowns,  and,  putting  on  their  lighter  orna- 
ments, went  to  the  banquet.  When  they  had  all  taken  their 
seats  according  to  precedence,  Kay,  the  sewer,  in  rich  robes  of 
ermine,  with  a  thousand  young  noblemen  all  in  like  manner 


52  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

clothed  in  rich  attire,  served  up  the  dishes.  From  another  part 
Bedver,  the  butler,  was  followed  by  the  same  number  of  attend- 
ants, who  waited  with  all  kinds  of  cups  and  drinking-vessels. 
And  there  was  food  and  drink  in  abundance,  and  everything 
was  of  the  best  kind  and  served  in  the  best  manner.  For  at 
that  time  Britain  had  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of  grandeur  that 
in  riches,  luxury  and  politeness  it  far  surpassed  all  other  king- 
doms. 

As  soon  as  the  banquets  were  over,  they  went  into  the  fields 
without  the  city  to  divert  themselves  with  various  sports,  such  as 
shooting  with  bows  and  arrows,  tossing  the  pike,  casting  of 
heavy  stones  and  rocks,  playing  at  dice,  and  the  like,  and  all 
these  inoffensively  and  without  quarrelling.  In  this  manner 
were  three  days  spent,  and  after  that  they  separated,  and  the 
kings  and  noblemen  departed  to  their  several  homes. 

After  this  Arthur  reigned  five  years  in  peace.  Then  came 
ambassadors  from  Lucius  Tiberius,  Procurator  under  Leo,  Em- 
peror of  Rome,  demanding  tribute  : 

"  Then  at  the  marriage  feast  came  in  from  Rome, 
The  slowly  fading  mistress  of  the  world, 
Great  lords,  who  claimed  the  tribute  as  before. 
But  Arthur  spoke  :   *  Behold,  for  these  have  sworn 
To  fight  my  wars  and  worship  me,  their  King, 
The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new  ; 
No  tribute  will  we  pay.'     So  those  great  lords 
Drew  back  in  wrath." — Coming  of  Arthur. 

But  Arthur  refused  to  pay  tribute,  and  prepared  for  war.  As 
soon  as  the  necessary  dispositions  were  made,  he  committed  the 
government  of  his  kingdom  to  his  nephew  Modred  and  to  Queen 
Guinevere,  and  marched  with  his  army  to  Hamo's  Port,  where 
the  wind  stood  fair  for  him.  The  army  crossed  over  in  safety, 
and  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Barba.  And  there 
they  pitched  their  tents  to  wait  the  arrival  of  the  kings  of  the 
islands. 

As  soon  as  all  the  forces  were  arrived,  Arthur  marched  forward 
to  Augustodunum,  and  encamped  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Alba. 
Here  repeated  battles  were  fought,  in  all  which  the  Britons, 
under  their  valiant  leaders,  Hoel,  Duke  of  Armorica,  and  Ga- 
wain,  nephew  to  Arthur,  had  the  advantage.     At  length  Lucius 


ARTHUR  SLAYS  GIANT  OF  ST.  MICHAEL'S  MOUNT.      53 

Tiberius  determined  to  retreat,  and  wait  for  the  Emperor  I.eo  to 
join  him  with  fresh  troops.  But  Arthur,  anticipating  this  event, 
took  possession  of  a  certain  valley,  and  closed  up  the  way  of  re- 
treat to  Lucius,  compelling  him  to  fight  a  decisive  battle,  in 
which  Arthur  lost  some  of  the  bravest  of  his  knights  and  most 
faithful  followers.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Lucius  Tiberius  was 
slain  and  his  army  totally  defeated. 

**  The  fainting  Romans  quit  their  ground, 
Their  trumpets  languish  in  the  sound,  , 

They  fly,  they  fly,  they  fly,  they  fly  ; 
Victoria!  Victoria!  the  bold  Britons  cry." — Dryden. 

Arthur  stayed  in  those  parts  till  the  next  winter  was  over,  and 
employed  his  time  in  restoring  order  and  settling  the  govern- 
ment. He  then  returned  into  England  and  celebrated  his  vic- 
tories with  great  splendor. 

Then  the  king  stablished  all  his  knights,  and  to  them  that 
were  not  rich  he  gave  lands,  and  charged  them  all  never  to  do 
outrage  nor  murder,  and  always  to  flee  treason  ;  also,  by  no  means 
to  be  cruel,  but  to  give  mercy  unto  him  that  asked  mercy,  upon 
pain  of  forfeiture  of  their  worship  and  lordship ;  and  always  to 
do  ladies,  damosels  and  gentlewomen  service  upon  pain  of  death. 
Also  that  no  man  take  battle  in  a  wrongful  quarrel,  for  no  law, 
nor  for  any  world's  goods.  Unto  this  were  all  the  knights  sworn 
of  the  Table  Round,  both  old  and  young.  And  at  every  year 
were  they  sworn  at  the  high  feast  of  Pentecost. 

"  And  wide  were  through  the  world  renowned 
The  glories  of  the  Table  Round. 
Each  knight  who  sought  adventurer's  fame, 
To  the  bold  court  of  Britain  came. 
And  all  who  suffered  causeless  wrong 
From  tyrant  proud  or  faitour  strong, 
Sought  Arthur's  presence  to  complain. 
Nor  there  for  aid  implored  in  vain." — ScOTT. 

King  Arthur  Slays  the  Giant  of  St.  Michael's 
Mount. 

While  the  army  was  encamped  in  Brittany,  awaiting  the  arri- 
val of  the  kings,  there  came  a  countryman  to  Arthur  and  told 
him  that  a  giant,  whose  cave  was  on  a  neighboring  mountain. 


54  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

called  St.  Michael's  Mount,  had  for  a  long  time  been  accustomed 
to  carry  off  the  children  of  the  peasants  to  devour  them.  *'  And 
now  he  hath  taken  the  Duchess  of  Brittany  as  she  rode  with  her 
attendants,  and  hath  carried  her  away  in  spite  of  all  they  could 
do."  *'Now,  fellow,"  said  King  Arthur,  *' canst  thou  bring 
me  there  where  this  giant  haunteth?"  **  Yea,  sure,"  said  the 
good  man;  *Mo,  yonder  where  thou  seest  two  great  fires  there 
shalt  thou  find  him,  and  more  treasure  than  I  suppose  is  in  all 
France  beside."  Then  the  king  called  to  him  Sir  Bedver  and 
Sir  Kay,  and  commanded  them  to  make  ready  horse  and  harness 
for  himself  and  them  ;  for  after  evening  he  would  ride  on  pil- 
grimage to  St.  Michael's  Mount. 

So  they  three  departed,  and  rode  forth  till  they  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  mount.  And  there  the  king  commanded  them  to 
tarry,  for  he  would  himself  go  up  into  that  mount.  So  he  as- 
cended the  hill  till  he  came  to  a  great  fire,  and  there  he  found 
an  aged  woman  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave,  making  great 
sorrow.  Then  King  Arthur  saluted  her,  and  demanded  of  her 
wherefore  she  made  such  lamentations.  To  whom  she  answered  : 
**  Sir  knight,  speak  low,  for  yonder  is  a  devil,  and  if  he  hear  thee 
speak  he  will  come  and  destroy  thee.  For  ye  cannot  make  re- 
sistance to  him,  he  is  so  fierce  and  so  strong.  He  hath  murdered 
the  Duchess,  which  here  lieth,  who  was  the  fairest  of  all  the 
world,  wife  to  Sir  Hoel,  Duke  of  Brittany."  **Dame,"  said 
the  king,  * '  I  come  from  the  noble  conqueror.  King  Arthur,  to 
treat  with  that  tyrant."  "  Fie  on  such  treaties,"  said  she  ;  *'  he 
setteth  not  by  the  king,  nor  by  no  man  else."  **Well,"  said 
Arthur,  **I  will  accomplish  my  message  for  all  your  fearful 
words."  So  he  went  forth  by  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  saw 
where  the  giant  sat  at  supper,  gnawing  on  the  limb  of  a  man, 
and  baking  his  broad  limbs  at  the  fire,  and  three  fair  damsels 
lying  bound,  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  devoured  in  their  turn. 
When  King  Arthur  beheld  that,  he  had  great  compassion  on 
them,  so  that  his  heart  bled  for  sorrow.  Then  he  hailed  the 
giant,  saying,  '*  He  that  all  the  world  ruleth  give  thee  short  life 
and  shameful  death.  Why  hast  thou  murdered  this  Duchess  ? 
Therefore  come  forth,  thou  caitiff,  for  this  day  thou  shalt  die  by 

my  hand." 

**  Come  forth,  thou  villain,  from  thy  lair, 
This  day  shall  be  thy  last. ' ' 


ARTHUR  GETS  SWORD  FROM  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      55 

Then  the  giant  started  up  and  took  a  great  club,  and  smote 
at  the  kingj  and  smote  off  his  coronal ;  and  then  the  king  struck 
him  with  his  sword,  and  made  a  fearful  wound.  Then  the  giant 
threw  away  his  club  and  caught  the  king  in  his  arms,  so  that 
he  crushed  his  ribs.  Then  the  three  maidens  kneeled  down 
and  prayed  for  help  and  comfort  for  Arthur.  And  Arthur 
weltered  and  wrenched,  so  that  he  was  one  while  under  and  an-  • 
other  time  above.  And  so  weltering  and  wallowing  they  rolled 
down  the  hill,  and  Arthur  smote  him  with  his  dagger ;  and  it 
fortuned  they  came  to  the  place  where  the  two  knights  were. 
And  when  they  saw  the  king  fast  in  the  giant's  arms  they  came 
and  loosed  him.  Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Kay  to  smite 
off  the  giant's  head,  and  to  set  it  on  the  truncheon  of  a  spear, 
and  fix  it  on  the  barbican,  that  all  the  people  might  see  and  be- 
hold it.  This  was  done,  and  anon  it  was  known  through  all  the 
country,  wherefor  the  people  came  and  thanked  the  king.  And 
he  said,  "  Give  your  thanks  to  God;  and  take  ye  the  giant's 
spoil  and  divide  it  among  you."  And  King  Arthur  caused  a 
church  to  be  builded  on  that  hill  in  honor  of  St.  Michael. 

King  Arthur  Gets  a  Sword  from  the  Lady  of  the 

Lake. 

One  day  King  Arthur  rode  forth,  and  on  a  sudden  he  was 
ware  of  three  churls  chasing  Merlin  to  have  slain  him.  And  the 
king  rode  unto  them  and  bade  them  flee.  Then  were  they 
afraid  when  they  saw  a  knight,  and  fled.  '*0  Merlin,"  said 
Arthur,  ''here  hadst  thou  been  slain,  for  all  thy  crafts,  had  I  not 
been  by."  *'  Nay,"  said  Merlin,  ''not  so,  for  I  could  save  my- 
self if  I  would  ;  but  thou  art  more  near  thy  death  than  I  am." 
So,  as  they  went  thus  talking.  King  Arthur  perceived  where  sat 
a  knight  on  horseback,  as  if  to  guard  the  pass.  "  Sir  knight," 
said  Arthur,  "  for  what  cause  abidest  thou  here?"  Then  the 
knight  said,  "  There  may  no  knight  ride  this  way  unless  he  just 
with  me,  for  such  is  the  custom  of  the  pass."  "  I  will  amend 
that  custom,"  said  the  king.  Then  they  ran  together,  and  they 
met  so  hard  that  their  spears  were  shivered.  Then  they  drew 
their  swords  and  fought  a  strong  battle,  with  many  great  strokes. 
But  at  length  the  sword  of  the  knight  smote  King  Arthur's  sword 
in  two  pieces.     Then  said  the  knight  unto  Arthur,  "Thou  art 


56  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

in  my  power,  whether  to  save  thee  or  slay  thee,  and  unless  thou 
yield  thee  as  overcome  and  recreant,  thou  shalt  die."  **  As  for 
death,"  said  King  Arthur,  '^welcome  be  it  when  it  cometh; 
but  to  yield  me  unto  thee  as  recreant,  I  will  not. ' '  Then  he 
leapt  upon  the  knight  and  threw  him  down  ;  but  the  knight  was 
a  passing  strong  man,  and  anon  he  brought  Arthur  under  him, 
and  would  have  razed  off  his  helm  to  slay  him.  Then  said  Mer- 
lin, *' Knight,  hold  thy  hand,  for  this  knight  is  a  man  of  more 
worship  than  thou  art  aware  of."  ''  Why,  who  is  he?"  said  the 
knight.  ''It  is  King  Arthur."  Then  would  he  have  slain  him 
for  dread  of  his  wrath,  and  lifted  up  his  sword  to  slay  him  ;  and 
therewith  Merlin  cast  an  enchantment  on  the  knight,  so  that  he 
fell  to  the  earth  in  a  great  sleep.  Then  Merlin  took  up  King 
Arthur  and  set  him  on  his  horse.  "Alas  !"  said  Arthur,  ''what 
hast  thou  done.  Merlin  ?  hast  thou  slain  this  good  knight  by  thy 
crafts?"  "  Care  ye  not,"  said  Merlin  ;  "  he  is  wholer  than  ye 
be.     He  is  only  asleep,  and  will  wake  in  three  hours." 

Then  the  king  and  he  departed,  and  went  till  they  came  to  a 
hermit,  that  was  a  good  man  and  a  great  leech.  So  the  hermit 
searched  all  his  wounds  and  applied  good  salves  ;  and  the  king 
was  there  three  days,  and  then  were  his  wounds  well  amended, 
that  he  might  ride  and  go.  So  they  departed,  and  as  they  rode 
Arthur  said,  "  I  have  no  sword."  "  No  matter,"  said  Merlin  ; 
"  hereby  is  a  sword  that  shall  be  yours. ' '  So  they  rode  till  they 
came  to  a  lake,  which  was  a  fair  water  and  broad.  And  in  the 
midst  of  the  lake  Arthur  was  aware  of  an  arm  clothed  in  white 
samite,  that  held  a  fair  sword  in  the  hand.  "  Lo  !"  said  Merlin, 
"  yonder  is  that  sword  that  I  spake  of.  It  belongeth  to  the  Lady 
of  the  Lake,  and,  if  she  will,  thou  mayest  take  it ;  but  if  she 
will  not,  it  will  not  be  in  thy  power  to  take  it." 

So  Sir  Arthur  and  Merlin  alighted  from  their  horses  and  went 
into  a  boat.  And  when  they  came  to  the  sword  that  the  hand 
held.  Sir  Arthur  took  it  by  the  handle  and  took  it  to  him,  and 
the  arm  and  the  hand  went  under  the  water : 

"  And  Arthur  row'd  across  and  took  it, — rich 
With  jewels,  elfin  Urim,  on  the  hilt, 
Bewildering  heart  and  eye, — the  blade  so  bright 
That  men  are  blinded  by  it, — on  one  side, 
Graven  in  the  oldest  tongue  of  all  this  world, 


ARTHUR  GETS  SWORD  FROM  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.      57 

'  Take  me,'  but  turn  the  blade  and  you  shall  see. 
And  written  in  the  speech  ye  speak  yourself, 

*  Cast  me  away  !'  and  sad  was  Arthur's  face 
Taking  it,  but  old  Merlin  counsell'd  him, 

*  Take  thou  and  strike  !  the  time  to  cast  away 
Is  yet  far  off.'  " — Coming  of  Arthur. 

Then  they  returned  into  the  land  and  rode  forth.  And  Sir 
Arthur  looked  on  the  sword  and  liked  it  right  well. 

So  they  rode  unto  Caerleon,  whereof  his  knights  were  passing 
glad.  And  when  they  heard  of  his  adventures,  they  marvelled 
that  he  would  jeopard  his  person  so  alone.  But  all  men  of  wor- 
ship said  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  be  under  such  a  chieftain  as  would 
put  his  person  in  adventure  as  other  poor  knights  did. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Ga'wain — Tor — PeVle-nore  and  their  Strange 
Adventures. 

Ga'wain's  Adventure. 

At  the  marriage  of  King  Arthur  the  seats  about  the  table  were 
blessed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  with  great  ceremony. 
When  this  had  been  done  Merlin  said,  ''Fair  sirs,  ye  must  all 
arise  and  come  unto  King  Arthur  and  do  him  honor,  after  which 
ye  will  have  the  better  wills  to  enjoy  the  feast."  And  so  they 
arose  to  do  him  homage. 

After  they  had  gone  Merlin  found  stamped  upon  every  seat 
in  letters  of  gold  the  name  of  its  knightly  occupant,  all  but  two, 
these  were  vacant.  Young  Gawain  hearing  of  this  went  to  the 
king  and  asked  that  he  might  be  made  a  knight.  ''  I  will  do  it 
with  a  good  will,"  said  the  king,  ''and  render  you  all  the  honor 
I  may,  for  you  are  my  sister's  son."  Tor  had  already  been 
created  a  knight,  so  he  and  Gawain  completed  the  number  at  Sir 
Arthur's  table.  In  the  midst  of  the  feast  Merlin  astonished  all  the 
knights  by  assuring  them  that  they  were  about  to  see  ' '  a  strange 
and  marvellous  adventure."  Just  then  a  white  hart  came  running 
into  the  hall  pursued  by  a  small  white  brachet.^  These  were  fol- 
lowed by  sixty  black  hounds.  The  hart,  bitten  by  the  brachet, 
leaped  over  the  table  and  bounded  through  the  door.  A  knight 
seized  the  brachet  and  rode  away.  Presently  a  lady  came  to 
the  castle  mounted  upon  a  palfrey  and  claimed  the  brachet  as 
hers. 

Soon  a  strange  knight  appeared,  and  seizing  the  claimant, 

^  A  small  hound. 
US) 


SIR  TOR'S  ADVENTURE.,  59 

carried  her  away  by  force.  Sir  Arthur  at  once  organized  a 
company  to  go  in  pursuit.  Sir  Gawain  was  to  bring  back  the 
hart,  Sir  Tor  the  brachet,  while  King  Pellenore  was  to  rescue 
the  lady  and  return  her  captor  dead  or  alive.  Sir  Gawain  fol- 
lowed the  hart,  lead  on  by  the  baying  of  the  hounds,  until  he 
came  to  a  great  river.  On  the  opposite  side  stood  a  knight  who 
dared  him  to  pursue  the  hart  further.  ''Sir  knight,  come  not 
over  after  the  hart  unless  thou  dost  fight  with  me."  Sir  Gawain 
made  his  horse  swim  the  river,  and  encountered  the  knight. 
"What  is  thy  name?"  said  Gawain.  **Iam  Allardin  of  the 
Isles,"  he  replied.  Sir  Gawain  smote  him  through  the  helmet 
and  left  him  dead.  He  followed  the  hart  unto  a  castle,  where 
it  was  slain.  A  knight  then  came  rushing  out  of  the  castle 
chamber,  and  killing  Sir  Gawain' s  hounds,  set  up  a  great  lamen- 
tation. ''  O,  my  white  hart,  it  repenteth  me  that  thou  art  dead, 
for  my  sovereign  lately  gave  thee  to  me,  and  evil  have  I  kept 
thee. ' '  He  then  retired  to  his  chamber  and  came  forth  armed 
to  fight  Sir  Gawain.  "What!"  exclaimed  Sir  Gawain,  "hast 
thou  slain  my  hounds  ?  I  had  rather  ye  had  worked  your  anger 
upon  me  than  these  poor  dumb  beasts."  "Thou  sayest  truth," 
replied  the  knight,  "and  so  will  I  do  to  thee."  Sir  Gawain 
smote  his  foe  to  the  earth,  and  when  about  to  strke  him  dead,  a 
lady  from  the  castle  threw  herself  upon  his  body  and  received 
the  blow.  Sir  Gawain  was  filled  with  remorse.  He  spared  the 
knight's  life,  and  demanded  that  he  repair  to  Camelot  that  King 
Arthur  might  know  the  truth.  On  his  way  he  was  set  upon  by 
four  knights  who  wounded  him  sore,  and  only  spared  his  life  at 
the  request  of  four  ladies  who  came  to  his  rescue.  He  was 
compelled  to  return  to  Camelot  mounted  on  his  horse  and  carry- 
ing the  dead  form  of  the  lady  whom  he  had  slain.  The  king 
and  the  queen  were  much  displeased,  and  made  command  that 
ever  after  he  must  espouse  all  ladies'  quarrels,  ever  be  courteous, 
and  never  refuse  mercy  to  him  that  asked  it. 

Sir  Tor's  Adventure. 

As  Sir  Tor  rode  from  the  castle  he  suddenly  came  upon  a 

dwarf  who  smote  his  horse  with  his  staff.      "For  what  intent 

dost  thou  smite  my  horse?"   said  Sir  Tor.      "  That  thou  should 

not  pass  this  way  until  thou  hast  fought  with  the  knights  that 


6o  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

abide  in  yonder  pavilions  that  thou  seest,"  said  the  dwarf.  Sir 
Tor  looked  and  saw  two  great  pavilions  before  which  were  great 
spears  and  shields,  but  he  declared  that  he  was  on  a  pursuit  and 
could  not  tarry.  Thereupon  the  dwarf  blew  his  horn  and  a 
knight  immediately  appeared  upon  horseback  ready  to  give  Sir 
Tor  battle.  Sir  Tor  smote  him  hard  until  he  cried  for  mercy. 
*'  But,  sir,"  he  said,  ''  I  have  another  knight  in  yonder  pavilion 
that  will  have  adoe  with  you  anon."  ^'  He  shall  be  welcome," 
said  Sir  Tor.  Sir  Tor  at  once  engaged  him  in  battle  until  he, 
too,  cried  for  mercy.  The  dwarf  then  came  to  Sir  Tor  and 
offered  to  show  him  where  the  knight  with  the  white  brachet  lived. 
And  so  they  rode  through  the  forest  until  they  came  to  two  pavil- 
ions by  a  priory,  before  which  were  two  shields,  one  of  which 
was  white  and  the  other  red.  Sir  Tor  alighted,  and  entering  one 
of  the  pavilions  saw  three  ladies  lying  asleep.  He  then  entered 
the  other  pavilion,  where  he  saw  a  lady  asleep  with  the  brachet 
at  her  feet.  The  knight  seized  the  brachet  to  bear  it  away. 
**  What,"  said  the  lady,  ^' will  ye  take  my  brachet  from  me?" 
"Yea,"  replied  Sir  Tor,  '*this  brachet  I  have  sought  from  Sir 
Arthur's  court."  The  lady  told  him  that  he  would  yet  regret 
what  he  had  done.  Sir  Tor  and  the  dwarf  then  set  out  for  Came- 
lot.  The  next  day  they  were  overtaken  by  a  knight,  who  de- 
manded that  he  return  the  brachet  which  he  had  taken  from  his 
lady.  Sir  Tor  prepared  to  give  him  battle.  He  proved  a  valiant 
knight,  and  refused  to  yield,  although  at  the  mercy  of  Sir  Tor. 
With  that  came  a  lady  riding  upon  a  palfrey  and  crying  unto  Sir 
Tor.  **  What  will  ye  with  me  ?"  said  the  knight.  '*  I  beseech 
ye  for  King  Arthur's  love  give  me  a  gift."  Sir  Tor  promised, 
and  the  lady  asked  the  head  of  the  knight  at  his  feet.  Sir  Tor 
was  sorry  for  his  promise,  but  the  lady  insisted  that  he  was  a 
murderer  and  must  die.  Sir  Tor  hesitated  until  the  knight 
attempted  to  escape,  when  he  cleft  his  head  in  twain.  He  then 
returned  to  Camelot,  and  was  welcomed  with  much  joy  at  the 

castle. 

King  Pel'le-nore's  Adventure. 

As  King  Pellenore  went  out  in  obedience  to  Sir  Arthur's  com- 
mand, he  entered  a  forest,  w^here  he  saw  a  damsel  sitting  by  a 
well  with  a  wounded  knight  by  her  side.  '*Help  me.  Sir 
Knight,"  she  cried.    The  king  told  her  that  he  was  on  a  mission 


KING  PELLENORBS  AD  VENTURE.  6 1 

and  could  not  stop.  A  little  further  on  he  met  a  poor  laboring 
man,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  a  knight  riding  and  leading 
away  a  lady.  The  man  told  him  he  had,  and  they  were  just  be- 
low in  the  valley.  He  told  him  further  that  the  lady's  cousin 
had  challenged  the  knight  to  battle,  and  already  they  were  fight- 
ing for  her  possession. 

Sir  Pellenore  hastened  to  the  scene,  and  there  in  a  pavilion 
sat  the  damsel  guarded  by  two  squires.  '^  Fair  lady,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  ye  must  come  with  me  to  Sir  Arthur's  court."  "Sir 
Knight,"  said  the  squires  who  were  with  her,  "  two  knights  fight 
for  this  lady  ;  go  and  part  them."  "Ye  say  well,"  replied  the 
king.  So  he  rode  between  the  knights  and  demanded  to  know 
the  cause  for  which  they  fought.  One  said  that  she  was  his 
cousin,  while  the  other  declared  that  she  belonged  to  him,  as 
he  had  captured  her  at  Sir  Arthur's  court.  "That  is  truly 
said,"  replied  Sir  Pellenore,  "and  for  that  reason  I  have  come 
to  bear  her  thither  again." 

Sir  Pellenore  slew  his  antagonist,  while  the  other  knight 
gladly  yielded  his  cousin  to  his  care.  So  King  Pellenore  and 
the  lady  set  out  together  for  Camelot.  But  darkness  coming  on, 
they  alighted,  and  prepared  to  wait  for  the  morning.  About 
midnight  they  heard  the  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs.  "Be 
still,"  said  King  Pellenore,  "and  we  shall  hear  of  some  ad- 
venture. ' ' 

Two  knights,  one  from  Camelot  and  the  other  from  the  north, 
approached  each  other.  "  What  tidings  at  Camelot?"  said  one. 
"  By  my  head,"  replied  the  other,  "  I  have  been  and  espied  the 
court  of  King  Arthur,  and  am  going  to  the  north  to  tell  our 
chieftains  of  his  fellowship  and  cheer."  "And  I,"  said  the 
other,  "have  a  remedy.  This  is  the  greatest  poison  in  the 
world,  and  to  Camelot  I  will  with  it,  for  I  have  a  friend  near  to 
the  king  who  has  promised  our  chieftains  that  he  shall  secure 
it."  "Beware,"  said  the  other,  "  of  Merlin ;  he  knows  all 
things  by  the  craft  of  Satan."  The  next  day  Sir* Pellenore  and 
the  damsel  came  to  the  well  where  the  young  lady  implored  help 
for  the  wounded  knight.  To  his  grief  he  discovered  that  they 
had  been  eaten  by  lions,  all  save  the  lady's  head.  "Alas!" 
said  Sir  Pellenore,  "  her  life  I  might  have  saved.  I  wot  not  but 
my  heart  mourneth  sore  for  the  death  of  this  lady. "      "  Now 


62  KING  ARTHUR  AJ^D  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

shall  ye  do  as  I  advise,"  said  his  companion.  "Bury  this 
knight  in  a  hermitage  and  bear  this  young  lady's  head  to  the 
court  of  Sir  Arthur. "  This  Sir  Pellenore  did.  When  he  re- 
turned to  Camelot  he  was  sworn  upon  the  four  Evangelists  to  tell 
the  truth  of  his  adventures.  **Ah,  Sir  Pellenore,"  said  the 
queen,  "ye  are  greatly  to  blame  that  ye  saved  not  the  lady's 
life." 

"Madam,"  replied  Sir  Pellenore,  "  I  was  so  furious  in  my 
quest  that  I  would  not  abide,  and  repenteth  me  all'  the  days  of 
my  life."  "True,"  said  Merlin,  "ye  ought  to  repent  it,  for 
that  lady  was  your  own  daughter  and  the  knight  was  her  lover. 
His  name  was  Miles  of  the  Launds,  and  hers  was  Elaine.  And 
because  ye  failed  to  help  her,  ye  shall  see  your  best  friend  fail 
you  when  in  your  greatest  distress."  "I  believe  it  will  be 
so, ' '  said  Sir  Pellenore,  * '  but  God  may  well  order  our  desti- 
nies." 

And  so  the  lady,  the  hart  and  the  brachet  were  all  returned 
to  Sir  Arthur's  court,  and  he  gave  his  knights  great  riches,  and 
enjoined  them,  on  the  penalty  of  the  loss  of  their  knighthood, 
that  they  should  always  be  courteous  to  the  ladies  and  fight  no 
battles  on  behalf  of  injustice  or  wrong.  And  every  year  they 
were  sworn  at  Pentecost  to  abide  his  authority. 

"  And  not  a  knight  of  Arthur's  host, 
Save  that  he  trod  some  foreign  coast, 
But  at  this  feast  of  Pentecost 
Before  him  must  appear," — Scott, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Sir  Ga'wain — Sir  Ga'wain's  Marriage — Ca-ra'doc  Brief- 
bras  or  Ca-ra'doc  with  the  Shrunken  Arm — 
The  Boy  and  the  Mantle. 

Sir  Gawain. 

Sir  Gawain,  as  we  have  seen,  was  nephew  to  King  Arthur, 
by  his  sister  MorLrana,  married  to  Lot,  king  of  Orkney,  who  was 
by  Arthur  made5|cg  of  Norway.  Sir  Gawain  was  one  of  the 
most  famous  knig»t^)f  the  Round  Table,  and  is  characterized 
by  the  romancers  as  the  sage  and  courteous  Gawain.  His  brothers 
were  Agravain,  Gaharet,  and  Gareth. 


Sir  Gawain's  Marriage. 

Once  upon  a  time  King  Arthur  held  his  court  in  merry  Car- 
lisle, when  a  damsel  came  before  him  and  craved  a  boon.  It 
was  for  vengeance  upon  a  caitiff  knight,  who  had  made  her  lover 
captive  and  despoiled  her  of  her  lands. 

**  When  wine  and  mirth  did  most  abound, 
And  harpers  played  their  blithest  round, 
A  shrilly  trumpet  shook  the  ground, 
And  marshals  cleaved  the  ling. 
A  maiden  on  a  palfrey  white 
Heading  a  band  of  damsels  bright. 
Paced  through  the  circle  to  alight 
And  kneel  before  the  king. 
Faltering,  yet  gracefully,  she  said, 
*  Great  Prince  !  behold  an  orphan  maid, 

(63) 


64  KING  ARTHVR  AND  HtS  KNIQHT8, 

In  her  departed  mother's  name, 

A  father's  vowed  protection  claim.' 

At  once  the  king  the  suppliant  raised, 

And  kissed  her  brow  her  beauty  praised. 

His  vow  he  said  should  well  be  kept. 

Ere  in  the  sea  the  sun  was  dipped," — Scott. 

King  Arthur  commanded  to  bring  him  his  sword,  Excalibur, 
and  to  saddle  his  steed,  and  rode  forth  without  delay  to  right 
the  lady's  wrong.  Erelong  he  reached  the  castle  of  the  grim 
baron,  and  challenged  him  to  the  conflict.  But  the  castle  stood 
on  magic  ground,  and  the  spell  was  such  that  no  knight  could 
tread  thereon  but  straight  his  courage  fell  and  his  strength  de- 
cayed. King  Arthur  felt  the  charm,  and  before  a  blow  was 
struck,  his  sturdy  limbs  lost  their  strength,  and  his  head  grew 
faint.  He  was  fain  to  yield  himself  prisoner  to  the  churlish 
knight,  who  refused  to  release  him  except  upon  condition  that 
he  should  return  at  the  end  of  a  year,  and  bring  a  true  answer  to 
the  question, 

'*  And  he  rode  east,  and  he  rode  west, 
And  did  of  all  enquire. 
What  thing  it  is  all  women  crave, 
And  what  they  most  desire." — Percy's  Reliques. 

In  default  of  an  answer  he  should  surrender  himself  and  his  lands. 
King  Arthur  accepted  the  terms,  and  gave  his  oath  to  return  at 
the  time  appointed.  During  the  year  the  king  rode  east,  and 
he  rode  west,  and  inquired  of  all  whom  he  met  what  thing  it  is 
which  all  women  most  desire.  Some  told  him  riches  ;  some, 
pomp  and  state ;  some,  mirth  ;  some,  flattery ;  and  some,  a 
gallant  knight.  But  in  the  diversity  of  answers  he  could  find  no 
sure  dependence.  The  year  was  well  nigh  spent,  when  one  day,l 
as  he  rode  thoughtfully  through  a  forest,  he  saw  sitting  beneath 
a  tree  a  lady  of  such  hideous  aspect  that  he  turned  away  his  eyes, 
and  when  she  greeted  him  in  seemly  sort,  made  no  answer. 
"  What  wight  art  thou,"  the  lady  said,  ''  that  will  not  speak  to 
me?  It  may  chance  that  I  may  resolve  thy  doubts,  though  I  be 
not  fair  of  aspect."  ''If  thou  wilt  do  so,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"choose  what  reward  thou  wilt,  thou  grim  lady,  and  it  shall  be 
given  thee."      ''Swear  me  this  upon  thy  faith,"  she  said,  and 


mB  GA  WAIN'S  MARUIA  GE.  6  5 

Arthur  swore  it.  Then  the  lady  told  him  the  secret,  and  de- 
manded her  reward,  which  was  that  the  king  should  find  some 
fair  and  courtly  knight  to  be  her  husband. 

King  Arthur  hastened  to  the  grim  baron's  castle  and  told  him 
one  by  one  all  the  answers  which  he  had  received  from  his  vari- 
ous advisers,  except  the  last,  and  not  one  was  admitted  as  the 
true  one.  ''Now  yield  thee,  Arthur,"  the  giant  said,  *'for 
thou  hast  not  paid  thy  ransom,  and  thou  and  thy  lands  are  for- 
feited to  me."      Then  King  Anhur  said  : 

**  Yet  hold  thy  hand,  thou  proud  baron, 

I  prny  thte  held  thy  hand, 
And  give  me  leave  to  speak  once  more 

In  rescue  of  my  land. 
This  morn,  as  I  came  over  a  moor, 

I  saw  a  lady  set, 
Between  an  oak  and  a  green  holly, 

All  clad  in  red  scarlett. 
She  says  all  women  would  have  their  will — 

This  is  their  chief  desire  ; 
Now  yield,  as  thou  art  a  baron  true, 

That  I  have  paid  my  hire." 

'*Itwas  my  sister  that  told  thee  this,"  the  churlish  baron 
exclaimed.  ''Vengeance  light  on  her!  I  will  some  time  or 
other  do  her  as  ill  a  turn." 

King  Arthur  rode  homeward,  but  not  light  of  heart ;  for  he 
remembered  the  promise  he  was  under  to  the  loathly  lady  to  give 
her  one  of  his  young  and  gallant  knights  for  a  husband.  He 
told  his  grief  to  Sir  Gawain,  his  nephew,  and  he  replied,  "  Be 
not  sad,  my  lord,  for  I  will  marry  the  loathly  lady."  King 
Arthur  replied : 

•'  Now  nay,  now  nay,  good  Sir  Gawaine, 
My  sister's  son  ye  be  ; 
The  loathly  lady  's  all  too  grim, 
And  all  too  foule  for  thee." 

But  Gawain  persisted,  and  the  king  at  last,  with  sorrow  of 
heart,  consented  that  Gawain  should  be  his  ransom.  So,  one 
day,  the  king  and  his  knights  rode  to  the  forest,  met  the  loathly 
lady,  and  brought  her  to  the  court.      Sir  Gawain  stood  the  scoffs 


66  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

and  jeers  of  his  companions  as  he  best  might,  and  the  marriage 
was  solemnized,  but  not  with  the  usual  festivities, 

"There  was  no  joye  ne  feste  at  alle ; 
There  n'  as  but  hevinesse  and  mochel  sorwe, 
For  prively  he  wed  her  on  the  morwe, 
And  all  day  after  hid  him  as  an  ovvle, 
So  wo  was  him  his  wife  loked  so  foule !" — Chaucer. 

When  night  came,  and  they  were  alone  together.  Sir  Gawain 
could  not  conceal  his  aversion  ;  and  the  lady  asked  him  why  he 
sighed  so  heavily  and  turned  away  his  face.  He  candidly  con- 
fessed it  was  on  account  of  three  things — her  age,  her  ugliness, 
and  her  low  degree.  The  lady,  not  at  all  offended,  replied  with 
excellent  arguments  to  all  his  objections.  She  showed  him  that 
with  age  is  discretion,  with  ugliness  security  from  rivals,  and 
that  all  true  gentility  depends,  not  upon  the  accident  of  birth, 
but  upon  the  character  of  the  individual. 

Sir  Gawain  made  no  reply  ;  but,  turning  his  eyes  on  his  bride, 
what  was  his  amazement  to  perceive  that  she  wore  no  longer  the 
unseemly  aspect  that  had  so  distressed  him.  She  then  told  him 
that  the  form  she  had  worn  was  not  her  true  form,  but  a  disguise 
imposed  upon  her  by  a  wicked  enchanter,  and  that  she  was  con- 
demned to  wear  it  until  two  things  should  happen :  one,  that  she 
should  obtain  some  young  and  gallant  knight  to  be  her  husband. 
This  having  been  done,  one  half  of  the  charm  was  removed. 
She  was  now  at  liberty  to  wear  her  true  form  for  half  the  time, 
and  she  bade  him  choose  whether  he  would  have  her  fair  by  day 
and  ugly  by  night,  or  the  reverse  : 

♦♦Now  gentle  Gawain  choose,  saith  she, 
And  make  the  choice  with  care, 
"Whether  by  night  or  else  by  day 
Shall  I  be  foul  or  fair." — Percy's  Reliques. 

Sir  Gawain  would  fain  have  had  her  look  her  best  by  night,  when 
he  alone  should  see  her,  and  show  her  repulsive  visage,  if  at  all, 
to  others.  But  she  reminded  him  how  much  more  pleasant  it 
would  be  to  her  to  wear  her  best  looks  in  the  throng  of  knights 
and  ladies  by  day.  Sir  Gawain  yielded,  and  gave  up  his  will 
to  hers.     This  alone  was  wanting  to  dissolve  the  charm.     The 


CARADOC  BRIEF  BRAS.  67 

lovely  lady  now  with  joy  assured  him  that  she  should  change  no 
more  ;  but  as  she  now  was,  so  would  she  remain  by  night  as 
well  as  by  day. 

"  Sweet  blushes  stayned  her  rudred  cheek, 

Her  eyen  were  black  as  sloe, 
The  ripening  cherrye  swelled  her  lippe, 

And  all  her  neck  was  snow. 
Sir  Gawain  kist  that  ladye  faire 

Lying  upon  the  sheete, 
And  swore,  as  he  was  a  true  knight, 

The  spice  was  never  so  swete." 

Sir  Gawain,  accompanied  by  his  bride,  returned  to  Camelot,  and 
in  all  the  kingdom  there  was  no  knight  happier  than  he. 

The  dissolution  of  the  charm  which  had  held  the  lady  also  re- 
leased her  brother,  the  grim  baron,  for  he,  too,  had  been  impli- 
cated in  it.  He  ceased  to  be  a  churlish  oppressor,  and  became  a 
gallant  and  generous  knight  as  any  at  Arthur's  court : 

**  With  so  high  reverence  and  observance, 
As  well  in  speeche  as  in  contenance, 
That  Gawain,  with  his  olde  curtesie, 
Though  he  were  come  agen  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word." — Chaucer. 

Ca-ra'doc  Brief-Bras;  or,  Ca  ra'doc  with  the 
Shrunken  Arm. 

Caradoc  was  the  son  of  Ysenne,  the  beautiful  niece  of  Arthur. 
He  was  ignorant  who  his  father  was  till  it  was  discovered  in  the 
following  manner :  When  the  youth  was  of  proper  years  to  re- 
ceive the  honors  of  knighthood.  King  Arthur  held  a  grand  court 
for  the  purpose  of  knighting  him.  On  this  occasion  a  strange 
knight  presented  himself,  and  challenged  the  knights  of  Arthur's 
court  to  exchange  blow  for  blow  with  him.  His  proposal  was 
this  :  to  lay  his  neck  on  a  block  for  any  knight  to  strike,  on  con- 
dition that,  if  he  survived  the  blow,  the  knight  should  submit 
in  turn  to  the  same  experiment.  Sir  Kay,  who  was  usually  ready 
to  accept  all  challenges,  pronounced  this  wholly  unreasonable, 
and  declared  that  he  would  not  accept  it  for  all  the  wealth  in 
the  world.     And  when  the  knight  offered  his  sword,  with  which 


6S  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

the  operation  was  to  be  performed,  no  person  ventured  to  accept 
it,  till  Caradoc,  growing  angry  at  the  disgrace  which  was  thus 
incurred  by  the  Round  Table,  threw  aside  his  mantle  and  took 
it.  *' Do  you  do  this  as  one  of  the  best  knights?"  said  the 
stranger.  "  No,"  he  replied,  *'  but  as  one  of  the  most  foolish." 
The  stranger  lays  his  head  upon  the  block,  receives  a  blow  which 
sends  it  rolling  from  his  shoulders,  walks  after  it,  picks  it  up,  re- 
places it  with  great  success,  and  says  he  will  return  when  the 
court  shall  be  assembled  next  year,  and  claim  his  turn.  When 
the  anniversary  arrived,  both  parties  were  punctual  to  their  en- 
gagement. Great  entreaties  were  used  by  the  king  and  queen, 
and  the  whole  court,  in  behalf  of  Caradoc,  but  the  stranger  was 
inflexible.  The  young  knight  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  and 
more  than  once  desired  him  to  make  an  end  of  the  business,  and 
not  keep  him  longer  in  so  disagreeable  a  state  of  expectation. 
At  last  the  stranger  strikes  him  gently  with  the  side  of  the  sword, 
bids  him  rise,  and  reveals  to  him  the  fact  that  he  is  his  father, 
the  enchanter  Eliaures,  and  that  he  gladly  owns  him  for  a  son, 
having  proved  his  courage  and  fidelity  to  his  word. 

But  the  favor  of  enchanters  is  short-lived  and  uncertain.  Eli- 
aures fell  under  the  influence  of  a  wicked  woman,  who,  to  satisfy 
her  pique  against  Caradoc,  persuaded  the  enchanter  to  fasten  on 
his  arm  a  serpent,  which  remained  there  sucking  at  his  flesh 
and  blood,  no  human  skill  sufficing  either  to  remove  the  reptile 
or  alleviate  the  torments  which  Caradoc  endured. 

Caradoc  was  betrothed  to  Guimier,  sister  to  his  bosom  friend 
Cador,  and  daughter  to  the  King  of  Cornwall.  As  soon  as  they 
were  informed  of  his  deplorable  condition,  they  set  out  for 
Nantes,  where  Caradoc' s  castle  was,  that  Guimier  might  attend 
upon  him.  When  Caradoc  heard  of  their  coming,  his  first  emo- 
tion was  that  of  joy  and  love.  But  soon  he  began  to  fear  that  the- 
sight  of  his  emaciated  form,  and  of  his  suff'erings,  would  disgust 
Guimier;  and  this  apprehension  became  so  strong  that  he  de- 
parted secretly  from  Nantes,  and  hid  himself  in  a  hermitage.  He 
was  sought  far  and  near  by  the  knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and 
Cador  made  a  vow  never  to  desist  from  the  quest  till  he  should 
have  found  him.  After  long  wandering,  Cador  discovered  his 
friend  in  the  hermitage,  reduced  almost  to  a  skeleton,  and  ap- 
parently near  his  death.    All  other  means  of  relief  having  already 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE.  69 

been  tried  in  vain,  Cador  at  last  prevailed  on  the  enchanter  Eli- 
aures  to  disclose  the  only  method  which  could  avail  for  his  rescue. 
A  maiden  must  be  found,  his  equal  in  birth  and  beauty,  and  loving 
him  better  than  herself,  so  that  she  would  expose  herself  to  the 
same  torment  to  deliver  him.  Two  vessels  were  then  to  be  pro- 
vided, the  one  filled  with  sour  wine  and  the  other  with  milk. 
Caradoc  must  enter  the  first,  so  that  the  wine  should  reach  his 
neck,  and  the  maiden  must  get  into  the  other,  and,  exposing  her 
bosom  upon  the  edge  of  the  vessel,  invite  the  serpent  to  forsake 
the  withered  flesh  of  his  victim  for  this  fresh  and  inviting  food. 
The  vessels  were  to  be  placed  three  feet  apart,  and  as  the  ser- 
pent crossed  from  one  to  the  other,  a  knight  was  to  cut  him  in 
two.  If  he  failed  in  his  blow,  Caradoc  would  indeed  be  deliv- 
ered, but  it  would  be  only  to  see  his  fair  champion  suffering  the 
same  cruel  and  hopeless  torment.  The  sequel  may  be  easily 
foreseen.  Guimier  willingly  exposed  herself  to  the  perilous  ad- 
venture, and  Cador,  with  a  lucky  blow,  killed  the  serpent.  The 
arm,  in  which  Caradoc  had  suffered  so  long,  recovered  its 
strength,  but  not  its  shape,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was 
called  Caradoc  Brief- Bras,  Caradoc  of  the  Shrunken  Arm. 

Caradoc  and  Guimier  are  the  hero  and  heroine  of  the  ballad 
of  the  * '  Boy  and  the  Mantle. ' ' 

The  Boy  and  the  Mantle. 
A  boy  is  said  to  have  appeared  at  the  court  of  King  Arthur 
with  a  magic  mantle.     No  lady  could  wear  it  whose  life  was  not 
blameless.     One  after  another  put  it  on  only  to  see  it  shrink  to 
nothing. 

"  And  first  came  Lady  Guinevere, 
The  mantle  she  must  try. 
This  dame  she  was  new-fangled 
And  of  a  roving  eye. 

'*When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 
And  all  with  it  was  clad, 
From  top  to  toe  it  shivered  down, 
As  though  with  shears  beshred. 

"  Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 
No  longer  would  she  stay  ; 
But,  storming  like  a  fury. 
To  her  chamber  flung  away. 


70  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 

*•  Sir  Kay  called  forth  his  lady, 
And  bade  her  to  come  near  : 

*  Yet  dame,  if  thou  be  guilty, 

I  pray  thee  now  forbear.' 

*  *  Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 
No  longer  bold  or  gay, 
But,  with  a  face  all  pale  and  wan, 
To  her  chamber  slunk  away. 

"Then  forth  came  an  old  knight 
A  pattering  o'er  his  creed. 
And  proffered  to  the  little  boy 
Five  nobles  to  his  meed  : 

"  A  saint  his  lady  seemed, 

"With  step  demure  and  slow. 
And  gravely  to  the  mantle 
With  mincing  face  doth  go. 

'*  Ah  !  little  did  her  mincing, 
*  Or  his  long  prayers  bestead  ; 

She  had  no  more  hung  on  her 
Than  a  tassel  and  a  thread. 

"Sir  Cradock  called  his  lady. 
And  bade  her  to  come  near  : 

*  Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 

And  do  me  credit  here.' 

«  <Lie  still,"  she  cried,  'O  mantle! 
And  shame  me  not  for  naught ; 
I'll  freely  own  whate'er  amiss 
Or  blameful  I  have  wrought. 

"  '  Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock 
Beneath  the  greenwood  tree; 
Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock' s  mouth, 
Before  he  married  me.' 

**  When  she  had  thus  her  shriven. 
And  her  worst  fault  had  told. 
The  mantle  soon  became  her. 
Right  comely  as  it  should. 

**  Most  rich  and  fair  of  color, 

Like  gold  it  glittering  shone, 
And  much  the  knights  in  Arthur's  court 
Admired  her  every  one." 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE. 


n 


The  ballad  goes  on  to  tell  of  two  more  trials  of  a  similar  kind, 
made  by  means  of  a  boar's  head  and  a  drinking-horn,  in  both 
of  which  the  result  was  equally  favorable  with  the  first  to  Sir 
Cradock  and  his  lady.     It  then  concludes  as  follows  : 

"  Thus  boar's  head,  horn,  and  mantle 
Were  this  fair  couple's  meed  ; 
And  all  such  constant  lovers,  ' 

God  send  tbem  well  to  speed." 

— Percy's  Reliques. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Birth  of  Laun'ce-lot — Sir  Laun'ce-lot  of  the  Lake. 


Birth  of  Laun'ce-lot. 

King  Ban,  of  Brittany,  the  faithful  ally  of  Arthur,  was  at- 
tacked by  his  enemy  Claudas,  and,  after  a  long  war,  saw  himself 
reduced  to  the  possession  of  a  single  fortress,  where  he  was  be- 
sieged by  his  enemy.  In  this  extremity  he  determined  to  solicit 
the  assistance  of  Arthur,  and  escaped  in  a  dark  night  with  his 
wife  Helen  and  his  infant  son  Launcelot,  leaving  his  castle  in  the 
hands  of  his  seneschal,  who  immediately  surrendered  the  place  to 
Claudas.  The  flames  of  his  burning  citadel  reached  the  eyes  of 
the  unfortunate  monarch  during  his  flight,  and  he  expired  with 
grief  The  wretched  Helen,  leaving  her  child  on  the  brink  of  a 
lake,  flew  to  receive  the  last  sighs  of  her  husband,  and  on  return- 
ing perceived  the  little  Launcelot  in  the  arms  of  a  nymph,  who, 
on  the  approach  of  the  queen,  threw  herself  into  the  lake  with^ 
the  child.  This  nymph  was  Vivian,  mistress  of  the  enchanter  j 
Merlin,  better  known  by  the  name  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  J 
Launcelot  received  his  appellation  from  having  been  educated  at 
the  court  of  this  enchantress,  whose  palace  was  situated  in  the 
midst,  not  of  a  real,  but,  like  the  appearance  which  deceives  the 
African  traveller,  of  an  imaginary  lake,  whose  deluding  resem- 
blance served  as  a  barrier  to  her  residence.  Here  she  dwelt  not 
(72) 


SIB  LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE.  73 

alone,  but  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous  retinue,  and  a  splendid 
court  of  knights  and  damsels. 

The  queen,  after  her  double  loss,  retied  to  a  convent,  where 
she  was  joined  by  the  widow  of  Bohort,  for  this  good  king  had 
died  of  grief  on  hearing  of  the  death  of  his  brother  Ban.  His 
two  sons,  Lionel  and  Bohort,  were  rescued  by  a  faithful  knight, 
and  arrived  in  the  shape  of  greyhounds  at  the  palace  of  the  lake, 
where,  having  resumed  their  natural  form,  they  were  educated 
along  with  their  cousin  Launcelot. 

The  fairy,  when  her  pupil  had  attained  the  age  of  eighteen, 
conveyed  him  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  for  the  purpose  of  demand- 
ing his  admission  to  the  honor  of  knighthood  ;  and  at  the  first 
appearance  of  the  youthful  candidate,  the  graces  of  his  person, 
which  were  not  inferior  to  his  courage  and  skill  in  arms,  made  an 
instantaneous  and  indelible  impression  on  the  heart  of  Guine- 
vere, while  her  charms  inspired  him  with  an  equally  ardent  and 
constant  passion.  The  mutual  attachment  of  these  lovers  ex- 
erted, from  that  time  forth,  an  influence  over  the  whole  history 
of  Arthur.  For  the  sake  of  Guinevere,  Launcelot  achieved  the 
conquest  of  Northumberland,  defeated  Gallehaut,  King  of  the 
Marches,  who  afterwards  became  his  most  faithful  friend  and  ally, 
exposed  himself  in  numberless  encounters,  and  brought  hosts  of 
prisoners  to  the  feet  of  his  sovereign. 

Sir  Laun'ce-lot  of  the   Lake. 

After  King  Arthur  was  come  from  Rome  into  England,  all  the 
knights  of  the  Table  Round  resorted  unto  him,  and  made  him 
many  justs  and  tournaments.  And  in  especial  Sir  Launcelot  of 
the  Lake,  in  all  tournaments  and  justs  and  deeds  of  arms,  both 
for  life  and  death,  passed  all  other  knights,  and  was  never  over- 
come, except  it  were  by  treason  or  enchantment ;  and  he  increased 
marvellously  in  worship,  wherefore  Queen  Guinevere  had  him  in 
great  favor  above  all  other  knights  : 

"  Then,  in  the  boyhood  of  the  year, 
Sir  Launcelot  and  Queen  Guinevere 
Rode  thro'  the  coverts  of  the  deer, 
With  blissful  treble  ringing  clear. 

She  seem'd  a  part  of  joyous  Spring: 
A  gown  of  grass-green  silk  she  wore, 


74  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Buckled  with  golden  clasps  before  ; 
A  light-green  tuft  of  plumes  she  bore 
Closed  in  a  golden  ring. 

"  Sometimes  the  linnet  piped  his  song  : 
Sometimes  the  throstle  whistled  strong  : 
Sometimes  the  sparhawk,  wheel' d  along, 
Hush'd  all  the  groves  fiom  fear  of  wrong: 
By  grassy  capes  with  fuller  sound 
In  curves  the  yellowing  river  ran. 
And  drooping  chestnut-buds  began 
To  spread  into  the  perfect  fan, 

Above  the  teeming  ground. 

"  Now  on  some  twisted  ivy-net. 
Now  by  some  tinkling  rivulet, 
In  mosses  mixt  with  violet 
Her  cream- white  mule  his  pastern  set : 

And  fleeter  now  she  skimm'd  the  plains 
Than  she  whose  elfin  prancer  springs 
By  night  to  eery  warblings, 
When  all  the  glimmering  moorland  rings 

With  jingling  bridle-reins. 

•*  As  she  fled  fast  thro'  sun  and  shade, 
The  happy  winds  upon  her  play'd, 
Blowing  the  ringlet  from  the  braid  : 
She  look'd  so  lovely,  as  she  sway'd 

The  rein  with  dainty  finger  tips, 
A  man  had  given  all  other  bliss, 
And  all  his  worldly  worth  for  this, 
To  waste  his  whole  heart  in  one  kiss 
Upon  her  perfect  lips." 

— Sir  Launcelot  and  Queen  Guinevere. 

And  for  certain  he  loved  the  queen  again  above  all  other  ladies  ; 
and  for  her  he  did  many  deeds  of  arms,  and  saved  her  from  peril, 
through  his  noble  chivalry.  Thus  Sir  Launcelot  rested  him  long 
with  play  and  game,  and  then  he  thought  to  prove  himself  in 
strange  adventures  ;  so  he  bade  his  nephew.  Sir  Lionel,  to  make 
him  ready, — ''for  we  two  will  seek  adventures."  So  they 
mounted  on  their  horses,  armed  at  all  sights,  and  rode  into  a 
forest,  and  so  into  a  deep  plain.  And  the  weather  was  hot  about 
noon,  and  Sir  Launcelot  had  great  desire  to  sleep.  Then  Sir 
Lionel  espied  a  great  apple-tree  that  stood  by  a  hedge,  and  he 
said:    ''Brother,  yonder  is  a  fair  shadow, — there  may  we  rest 


SIB  LA  UNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE.  75 

us  and  our  horses. ' *  *'It  is  well  said,"  replied  Sir  Launcelot. 
So  they  there  alighted,  and  Sir  Launcelot  laid  him  down,  and  his 
helm  under  his  head,  and  soon  was  asleep  passing  fast.  And  Sir 
Lionel  waked  while  he  slept.  And  presently  there  came  three 
knights  riding  as  fast  as  ever  they  might  ride,  and  there  followed 
them  but  one  knight.  And  Sir  Lionel  thought  he  never  saw  so 
great  a  knight  before.  So  within  a  while  this  great  knight  over- 
took one  of  these  knights,  and  smote  him  so  that  he  fell  to  the 
earth.  Then  he  rode  to  the  second  knight  and  smote  him,  and 
so  he  did  to  the  third  knight.  Then  he  alighted  down,  and 
bound  all  the  three  knights  fast  with  their  own  bridles.  When 
Sir  Lionel  saw  him  do  thus,  he  thought  to  assay  him,  and  made 
him  ready  silently,  not  to  awake  Sir  Launcelot,  and  rode  after 
the  strong  knight,  and  bade  him  turn.  And  the  other  smote  Sir 
Lionel  so  hard  that  horse  and  man  fell  to  the  earth  ;  and  then  he 
alighted  down  and  bound  Sir  Lionel,  and  threw  him  across  his  own 
horse  ;  and  so  he  served  them  all  four,  and  rode  with  them  away 
to  his  own  castle.  And  when  he  came  there  he  put  them  in  a 
deep  prison,  in  which  were  many  more  knights  in  great  distress. 

Now  while  Sir  Launcelot  lay  under  the  apple-tree  sleeping, 
there  came  by  him  four  queens  of  great  estate.  And  that  the 
heat  should  not  grieve  them,  there  rode  four  knight  about  them, 
and  bare  a  cloth  of  green  silk,  on  four  spears,  betwixt  them  and 
the  sun.     And  the  queens  rode  on  four  white  mules. 

Thus  as  they  rode  they  heard  by  them  a  great  horse  grimly 
neigh.  Then  they  were  aware  of  a  sleeping  knight,  that  lay  all 
armed  under  an  apple-tree  ;  and  as  the  queens  looked  on  his 
face  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  began  to  strive 
for  that  knight,  and  each  one  said  she  would  have  him  for  her 
love.  **  We  will  not  strive,"  said  Morgane  le  Fay,  that  was 
King  Arthur's  sister,  *'  for  I  will  put  an  enchantment  upon  him, 
that  he  shall  not  wake  for  six  hours,  and  we  will  take  him  away 
to  my  castle ;  and  then  when  he  is  surely  within  my  hold,  I  will 
take  the  enchantment  from  him,  and  then  let  him  choose  which 
of  us  he  will  have  for  his  love."  So  the  enchantment  was  cast 
upon  Sir  Launcelot.  And  then  they  laid  him  upon  his  shield, 
and  bare  him  so  on  horseback  between  two  knights,  and  brought 
him  unto  the  castle  and  laid  him  in  a  chamber,  and  at  night  they 
sent  him  his  supper. 


76  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

And  on  the  morning  came  early  those  four  queens,  richly 
dight,  and  bade  him  good  morning,  and  he  them  again.  **  Sir 
knight, ' '  they  said,  *  *  thou  must  understand  thou  art  our  prisoner ; 
and  we  know  thee  well,  that  thou  art  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
King  Ban's  son,  and  that  thou  art  the  noblest  knight  living. 
And  we  know  well  that  there  can  no  lady  have  thy  love  but  one, 
and  that  is  Queen  Guinevere ;  and  now  thou  shalt  lose  her  for 
ever,  and  she  thee ;  and  therefore  it  behooveth  thee  now  to 
choose  one  of  us.  I  am  the  Queen  Morgane  le  Fay,  and  here  is 
the  Queen  of  North  Wales,  and  the  Queen  of  Eastland,  and  the 
Queen  of  the  Isles.  Now  choose  one  of  us  which  thou  wilt  have, 
for  if  thou  choose  not,  in  this  prison  thou  shalt  die."  ''This  is 
a  hard  case,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "that  either  I  must  die,  or 
else  choose  one  of  you  ;  yet  had  I  liever  to  die  in  this  prison 
with  worship,  than  to  have  one  of  you  for  my  paramour,  for  ye 
be  false  enchantresses."  ''Well,"  said  the  queens,  "is  this 
your  answer,  that  ye  will  refuse  us?"  "  Yea,  on  my  life  it  is," 
said  Sir  Launcelot.     Then  they  departed,  making  great  sorrow. 

Then  at  noon  came  a  damsel  unto  him  with  his  dinner,  and 
asked  him,  "  AVhat  cheer?"  "Truly,  fair  damsel,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "never  so  ill."  "Sir,"  said  she,  "if  you  will  be 
ruled  by  me,  I  will  help  you  out  of  this  distress.  If  ye  will 
promise  me  to  help  my  father  on  Tuesday  next,  who  hath  made 
a  tournament  between  him  and  the  King  of  North  Wales  ;  for  the 
last  Tuesday  my  father  lost  the  field."  "Fair  maiden,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "  tell  me  what  is  your  father's  name,  and  then  I 
will  give  you  an  answer."  "  Sir  knight,"  she  said,  "my  father 
is  King  Bagdemagus. "  "  I  know  him  well,"  said  Sir  Launce- 
lot, "  for  a  noble  king  and  a  good  knight ;  and,  by  the  faith  of 
my  body,  I  will  be  ready  to  do  your  father  and  you  service  at 
that  day." 

So  she  departed,  and  came  on  the  next  morning  early  and 
found  him  ready,  and  brought  him  out  of  twelve  locks,  and 
brought  him  to  his  own  horse,  and  lightly  he  saddled  him,  and 
so  rode  forth. 

And  on  the  Tuesday  next  he  came  to  a  little  wood  where  the 
tournament  should  be.  And  there  were  scaffolds  and  holds,  that 
lords  and  ladies  might  look  on,  and  give  the  prize.  Then  came 
into  the  field  the  King  of  North  Wales,  with  eightscore  helms,  and 


SIR  LA  UNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE,  yy 

King  Bagdemagus  came  with  fourscore  helms.  And  then  they 
couched  their  spears,  and  came  together  with  a  great  dash,  and 
there  were  overthrown  at  the  first  encounter  twelve  of  King 
Bagdemagus' s  party  and  six  of  the  King  of  North  Wales's  party, 
and  King  Bagdemagus' s  party  had  the  worse. 

With  that  came  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  thrust  in  with 
his  spear  in  the  thickest  of  the  press  ;  and  he  smote  down  five 
knights  ere  he  held  his  hand  ;  and  he  smote  down  the  King  of 
North  Wales,  and  he  brake  his  thigh  in  that  fall.  And  then  the 
knights  of  the  King  of  North  Wales  would  just  no  more  ;  and  so 
the  gree  was  given  to  King  Bagdemagus. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  forth  with  King  Bagdemagus  unto  his 
castle  ;  and  there  he  had  passing  good  cheer,  both  with  the  king 
and  with  his  daughter.  And  on  the  morn  he  took  his  leave, 
and  told  the  king  he  would  go  and  seek  his  brother,  Sir  Lionel, 
that  went  from  him  w^hen  he  slept.  So  he  departed,  and  by 
adventure  he  came  to  the  same  forest  where  he  was  taken  sleep- 
ing. And  in  the  highway  he  met  a  damsel  riding  on  a  white 
palfrey,  and  they  saluted  each  other.  ''Fair  damsel,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "know  ye  in  this  country  any  adventures?" 

**  He  arm^d  rode  in  forest  wide, 
And  met  a  damsel  fair, 
Who  told  him  of  adventures  great, 
Wherein  he  gave  good  care." — Percy's  Reliques. 

''Sir  knight,"  said  the  damsel,  "here  are  adventures  near  at 
hand,  if  thou  durst  pursue  them."  "  W^hy  should  I  not  prove 
adventures?"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "since  for  that  cause  came  I 
hither."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  hereby  dwelleth  a  knight  that  will 
not  be  overmatched  for  any  man  I  know,  except  thou  overmatch 
him.  His  name  is  Sir  Turquine,  and,  as  I  understand,  he  is  a 
deadly  enemy  of  King  Arthur,  and  he  has  in  his  prison  good 
knights  of  Arthur's  court  threescore  and  more,  that  he  hath  won 
with  his  own  hands." 

"  Who  has  in  prison  threescore  knights 
And  four,  that  he  did  wound  ; 
Knights  of  King  Arthur's  court  they  be, 
And  of  his  Table  Round." — Percy's  Reliques. 


78  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

"Damsel,"  said  Launcelot,  **I  pray  you  bring  me  unto  this 
knight."  So  she  told  him,  ''Hereby,  within  this  mile,  is  his 
castle,  and  by  it  on  the  left  hand  is  a  ford  for  horses  to  drink  of, 
and  over  that  ford  there  groweth  a  fair  tree,  and  on  that  tree 
hang  many  shields  that  good  knights  wielded  aforetime,  that 
are  now  prisoners ;  and  on  the  tree  hangeth  a  basin  of  copper 
and  latten,  and  if  thou  strike  upon  that  basin  thou  shalt  hear 
tidings."  And  Sir  Launcelot  departed,  and  rode  as  the  damsel 
had  shown  him,  and  shortly  he  came  to  the  ford,  and  the  tree 
where  hung  the  shields  and  the  basin.  And  among  the  shields 
he  saw  Sir  Lionel's  and  Sir  Hector's  shield,  besides  many  others 
of  knights  that  he  knew. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  struck  on  the  basin  with  the  butt  of  his 
spear  ;  and  long  he  did  so,  but  he  saw  no  man.  And  at  length 
he  was  ware  of  a  great  knight  that  drove  a  horse  before  him, 
and  across  the  horse  there  lay  an  armed  knight  bounden. 

*'  He  struck  hard,  the  basin  broke, 
And  Turquine  soon  he  spied." — Percy's  Reliques. 

And  as  they  came  near.  Sir  Launcelot  thought  he  should  know 
the  captive  knight.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  that  it  was  Sir 
Gaheris,  Sir  Ga wain's  brother,  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round. 
''Now,  fair  knight,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "put  that  wounded 
knight  off  the  horse,  and  let  him  rest  awhile,  and  let  us  two  prove 
our  strength.  For,  as  it  is  told  me,  thou  hast  done  great  despite 
and  shame  unto  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  therefore  now  de- 
fend thee."  "  If  thou  be  of  the  Table  Round,"  said  Sir  Tur- 
quine, "  I  defy  thee  and  all  thy  fellowship." 

*'  If  thou  be  Launcelot  du  Lake, 
Then  welcome  shall  thou  be, 
Wherefore  see  thou  thyself  defend, 
For  now  defie  I  thee." — Percy's  Reliques. 

'*That  is  overmuch  said,"  said  Sir  Launcelot. 

Then  they  put  their  spears  in  the  rests,  and  came  together 
with  their  horses  as  fast  as  they  might  run.  And  each  smote  the 
other  in  the  middle  of  their  shields,  so  that  their  horses  fell 
under  them,  and  the  knights  were  both  staggered ;  and  as  soon 
as  they  could  clear  their  horses,  they  drew  out  their  swords  and 


SIR  LA  UNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE.  79 

came  together  eagerly,  and  each  gave  the  other  many  strong 
strokes,  for  neither  shield  nor  harness  might  withstand  their 
strokes.  So  within  a  while  both  had  grimly  wounds,  and  bled 
grievously.  Then  at  the  last  they  were  breathless  both,  and 
stood  leaning  upon  their  swords.  '*Now,  fellow,"  said  Sir 
Turquine,  *'thou  art  the  stoutest  man  that  ever  I  met  with,  and 
best  breathed ;  and  so  be  it  thou  be  not  the  knight  that  I  hate 
above  all  other  knights,  the  knight  that  slew  my  brother.  Sir 
Carados,  I  will  gladly  accord  with  thee  ;  and  for  thy  love  I  will 
deliver  all  the  prisoners  that  I  have. ' ' 

"What  knight  is  he  that  thou  hatest  so  above  others?" 
"Truly,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "  his  name  is  Sir  Launcelot  of  the 
Lake."  "  I  am  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  King  Ban's  son  of 
Benwick,  and  very  knight  of  the  Table  Round  ;  and  now  I  defy 
thee  do  thy  best."  "Ah!  said  Sir  Turquine,  "Launcelot, 
thou  art  to  me  the  most  welcome  that  ever  was  knight ;  for  we 
shall  never  part  till  the  one  of  us  be  dead. ' '  And  then  they 
hurtled  together  like  two  wild  bulls,  rashing  and  lashing  with 
their  swords  and  shields,  so  that  sometimes  they  fell,  as  it  were, 
headlong.  Thus  they  fought  two  hours  and  more,  till  the 
ground  where  they  fought  was  all  bepurpled  with  blood. 

"  But  soon  too  earnest  grew  their  game, 
The  spears  drew  blood,  the  swords  struck  flame, 
And  horse  and  men  to  ground  there  came — 
Knights  who  shall  rise  no  more. 
Gone  was  the  pride  the  war  that  graced, 
Gay  shields  were  cleft  and  crests  defaced, 
And  steel  coats  riven  and  helms  unbraced, 

And  pennons  streamed  with  gore. 
Gone,  too,  were  fence  and  fair  array, 
And  desperate  strength  made  deadly  way 
At  random  through  the  bloody  fray, 
And  blows  were  dealt  with  headlong  sway, 

Unheeding  where  they  fell." — Scott. 

Then  at  the  last  Sir  Turquine  waxed  sore  faint,  and  gave 
somewhat  aback,  and  bare  his  shield  full  low  for  weariness.  That 
spied  Sir  Launcelot,  and  leapt  then  upon  him  fiercely  as  a  lion, 
and  took  him  by  the  beaver  of  his  helmet,  and  drew  him  down 
on  his  knees.  And  he  rased  off  his  helm,  and  smote  his  neck 
in  sunder. 


8o  Ktm  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

And  Sir  Gaheris,  when  he  saw  Sir  Turquine  slain,  said,  "  Fair 
lord,  I  pray  you  tell  me  your  name,  for  this  day  I  say  ye  are  the 
best  knight  in  the  world,  for  ye  have  slain  this  day  in  my  sight 
the  mightiest  man  and  the  best  knight  except  you  that  ever  I 
saw."  **Sir,  my  name  is  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac,  that  ought  to 
help  you  of  right  for  King  Arthur's  sake,  and  in  especial  for  Sir 
Gawain's  sake,  your  own  dear  brother.  Now  T  pray  you,  that 
ye  go  into  yonder  castle,  and  set  free  all  the  prisoners  ye  find 
there,  for  I  am  sure  ye  shall  find  there  many  knights  of  the 
Table  Round,  and  especially  my  brother  Sir  Lionel.  I  pray  you 
greet  them  all  from  me,  and  tell  them  I  bid  them  take  there  such 
stuff  as  they  find  ;  and  tell  my  brother  to  go  unto  the  court  and 
abide  me  there,  for  by  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  I  think  to  be 
there ;  but  at  this  time  I  may  not  stop,  for  I  have  adventures  on 
hand."  So  he  departed,  and  Sir  Gaheris  rode  into  the  castle, 
and  took  the  keys  from  the  porter,  and  hastily  opened  the  prison 
door  and  let  out  all  the  prisoners.  There  was  Sir  Kay,  Sir 
Brandeles,  and  Sir  Galynde,  Sir  Bryan,  and  Sir  Alyduke,  Sir 
Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Lionel,  and  many  more. 

•'  From  prison  threescore  knights  and  four 
Deliverest  everyone." — Percy's  Reliques. 

And  when  they  saw  Sir  Gaheris,  they  all  thanked  him,  for 
they  thought,  because  he  was  wounded,  that  he  had  slain  Sir 
Turquine.  "  Not  so,"  said  Sir  Gaheris  ;  "it  was  Sir  Launcelot 
that  slew  him,  right  worshipfuUy  ;   I  saw  it  with  mine  eyes." 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  till  at  nightfall  he  came  to  a  fair  ca.stle, 
and  therein  he  found  an  old  gentlewoman,  who  lodged  him  with 
good-will,  and  there  he  had  good  cheer  for  him  and  his  horse. 
And  when  time  was,  his  host  brought  him  to  a  fair  chamber 
over  the  gate  to  his  bed.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  unarmed  him, 
and  set  his  harness  by  him,  and  went  to  bed,  and  anon  he  fell 
asleep.  And  soon  after  there  came  one  on  horseback  and  knocked 
at  the  gate  in  great  haste  ;  and  when  Sir  Launcelot  heard  this,  he 
arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  saw  by  the  moonlight 
three  knights  riding  after  that  one  man,  and  all  three  lashed  on 
him  with  their  swords,  and  that  one  knight  turned  on  them 
knightly  again  and  defended  himself.  "  Truly,"  said  Sir  Launce- 
lot, *'  yonder  one  knight  will  I  help,  for  it  is  shame  to  see  three 


SIR  LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE,  8 1 

knights  on  one. ' '  Then  he  took  his  harness  and  went  out  at 
the  window  by  a  sheet  down  to  the  four  knights  ;  and  he  said 
aloud,  "Turn  you  knights  unto  me,  and  leave  your  fighting 
with  that  knight."  Then  the  knights  left  Sir  Kay,  for  it  was  he 
they  were  upon,  and  turned  unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  struck  many 
great  strokes  at  Sir  Launcelot,  and  assailed  him  on  every  side. 
Then  Sir  Kay  addressed  him  to  help  Sir  Launcelot,  but  he  said, 
**Nay,  sir,  I  will  have  none  of  your  help;  let  me  alone  with 
them."  So  Sir  Kay  suffered  him  to  do  his  will,  and  stood 
one  side.  And  within  six  strokes,  Sir  Launcelot  had  stricken 
them  down. 

Then  they  all  cried,  "Sir  knight,  we  yield  us  unto  you." 
"As  to  that,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  I  will  not  take  your  yield- 
ing unto  me.  If  so  be  ye  will  yield  you  unto  Sir  Kay,  the  Sen- 
eschal, I  will  save  your  lives,  but  else  not. "  "  Fair  knight, ' '  then 
they  said,  "we  will  do  as  thou  commandest  us."  "Then 
shall  ye,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  on  Whitsunday  next,  go  into  the 
court  of  King  Arthui,  and  there  shall  ye  yield  you  unto  Queen 
Guinevere,  and  say  that  Sir  Kay  sent  you  thither  to  be  her  pris- 
oners." "Sir,"  they  said,  "  it  shall  be  done,  by  the  faith  of 
our  bodies  ;"  and  then  they  swore,  every  knight  upon  his  sword. 
And  so  Sir  Launcelot  suffered  them  to  depart. 

On  the  morn  Sir  Launcelot  rose  early  and  left  Sir  Kay  sleep- 
ing;  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  Sir  Kay's  armor,  and  his  shield, 
and  armed  him,  and  went  to  the  stable  and  took  his  horse,  and 
so  he  departed.  Then  soon  after  arose  Sir  Kay,  and  missed  Sir 
Launcelot.  And  then  he  espied  that  he  had  taken  his  armor 
and  his  horse.  "Now,  by  my  faith,  I  know  well,"  said  Sir 
Kay,  "that  he  will  grieve  some  of  King  Arthur's  knights,  for 
they  will  deem  that  it  is  I,  and  will  be  bold  to  meet  him.  But 
by  cause  of  his  armor  I  am  sure  I  shall  ride  in  peace."  Then 
Sir  Kay  thanked  his  host  and  departed. 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  in  a  deep  forest,  and  there  he  saw  four 
knights  under  an  oak,  and  they  were  of  Arthur's  court.  There 
was  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus,  and  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir 
Gawain,  and  Sir  Uwaine.  As  they  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  they 
judged  by  his  arms  it  had  been  Sir  Kay.  "Now,  by  my  faith," 
said  Sir  Sagramour,  "  I  will  prove  Sir  Kay's  might  "  ;  and  got 
bis  spear  in  his  hand,  and  came  toward  Sir  Launcelot.     There- 


82  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

with  Sir  Launcelot  couched  his  spear  against  him,  and  smote  Sir 
Sagramour  so  sore  that  horse  and  man  fell  both  to  the  earth. 
Then  said  Sir  Hector,  "  Now  shall  ye  see  what  I  may  do  with 
him."  But  he  fared  worse  than  Sir  Sagramour,  for  Sir  Launce- 
lot's  spear  went  through  his  shoulder  and  bare  him  from  his 
horse  to  the  ground.  '*  By  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Uwaine,  *'  yon- 
der is  a  strong  knight,  and  I  fear  he  hath  slain  Sir  Kay,  and  taken 
his  armor."  And  therewith  Sir  Uwaine  took  his  spear  in  hand 
and  rode  toward  Sir  Launcelot ;  and  Sir  Launcelot  met  him  on 
the  plain  and  gave  him  such  a  buffet  that  he  was  staggered,  and 
wist  not  where  he  was.  "Now  see  I  well,"  said  Sir  Gawain, 
''that  I  must  encounter  with  that  knight."  Then  he  adjusted 
his  shield,  and  took  a  good  spear  in  his  hand,  and  Sir  Launcelot 
knew  him  well.  Then  they  let  run  their  horses  with  all  their 
mights,  and  each  knight  smote  the  other  in  the  middle  of  his 
shield.  But  Sir  Gawain's  spear  broke,  and  Sir  Launcelot 
charged  so  sore  upon  him  that  his  horse  fell  over  backward. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  rode  away  smiling  with  himself,  and  he  said, 
*'  Good  luck  be  with  him  that  made  this  spear,  for  never  came 
abetter  into  my  hand."  Then  the  four  knights  went  each  to 
the  other  and  comforted  one  another.  ''What  say  ye  to  this 
adventure,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  that  one  spear  hath  felled  us  all 
four?"  "I  dare  lay  my  head  it  is  Sir  Launcelot,"  said  Sir 
Hector ;    "I  know  it  by  his  riding." 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  through  many  strange  countries,  till 
by  fortune  he  came  to  a  fair  castle  ;  and  as  he  passed  beyond 
the  castle,  he  thought  he  heard  two  bells  ring.  And  then  he 
perceived  how  a  falcon  came  flying  over  his  head  toward  a  high 
elm  ;  and  she  had  long  lunys^  about  her  feet,  and  she  flew  unto 
the  elm  to  take  her  perch,  and  the  lunys  got  tangled  in  a  bough ; 
and  when  she  would  have  taken  her  flight,  she  hung  by  the  legs 
fast,  and  Sir  Launcelot  saw  how  she  hung,  and  beheld  the  fair 
falcon  entangled,  and  he  was  sorry  for  her.  Then  came  a  lady 
out  of  the  castle  and  cried  aloud,  "  O  Launcelot,  Launcelot,  as 
thou  art  the  flower  of  all  knights,  help  me  to  get  my  hawk ;  for 
if  my  hawk  be  lost,  my  lord  will  slay  me,  he  is  so  hasty." 
"What  is  your  lord's  name?"  said  Sir  Launcelot.      "  His  name 

1  The  string  with  which  the  falcon  is  held. 


SIB  LA  UNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE.  83 

is  Sir  Phelot,  a  knight  that  belongeth  to  the  King  of  North 
Wales."  *'  Well,  fair  lady,  since  ye  know  my  name,  and  require 
me  of  knighthood  to  help  you,  I  will  do  what  I  may  to  get  your 
hawk  ;  and  yet  in  truth  I  am  an  ill  climber,  and  the  tree  is  pass- 
ing high,  and  iQw  boughs  to  help  me."  And  therewith  Sir 
Launcelot  alighted  and  tied  his  horse  to  the  tree,  and  prayed  the 
lady  to  unarm  him.  And  when  he  was  unarmed,  he  put  off  his 
jerkin,  and  with  might  and  force  he  clomb  up  to  the  falcon,  and 
tied  the  lunys  to  a  rotten  bough,  and  threw  the  hawk  down  with 
it ;  and  the  lady  got  the  hawk  in  her  hand.  Then  suddenly 
there  came  out  of  the  castle  her  husband  all  armed,  and  with  his 
naked  sword  in  his  hand,  and  said,  ''  O,  Knight  Launcelot,  now 
have  I  got  thee  as  I  would, ' '  and  stood  at  the  boll  of  the  tree  to 
slay  him.  *^  Ah,  lady  !"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  why  have  ye  be- 
trayed me  ?"  "■  She  hath  done, ' '  said  Sir  Phelot,  ' '  but  as  I  com- 
manded her  ;  and  therefore  there  is  none  other  way  but  thine  hour 
is  come,  and  thou  must  die."  "■  That  were  shame  unto  thee," 
said  Sir  Launcelot;  ''thou  an  armed  knight  to  slay  a  naked 
man  by  treason. "  ''Thou  gettest  none  other  grace,"  said  Sir 
Phelot,  "and  therefore  help  thyself  if  thou  canst."  "Alas  !" 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  ever  a  knight  should  die  weaponless." 
And  therewith  he  turned  his  eyes  upward  and  downward ;  and 
over  his  head  he  saw  a  big  bough  leafless,  and  he  brake  it  off 
from  the  trunk.  And  then  he  came  lower,  and  watched  how  his 
own  horse  stood  ;  and  suddenly  he  leapt  on  the  further  side  of 
his  horse  from  the  knight.  Then  Sir  Phelot  lashed  at  him 
eagerly,  meaning  to  have  slain  him.  But  Sir  Launcelot  put 
away  the  stroke,  with  the  big  bough,  and  smote  Sir  Phelot  there- 
with on 'the  side  of  the  head,  so  that  he  fell  down  in  a  swoon  to 
the  ground.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  sword  out  of  his  hand 
and  struck  his  head  from  the  body.  Then  said  the  lady,  "Alas  ! 
why  hast  thou  slain  my  husband?"  "  I  am  not  the  cause,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "  for  with  falsehood  ye  would  have  slain  me,  and 
now  it  is  fallen  on  yourselves."  Thereupon  Sir  Launcelot  got 
all  his  armor,  and  put  it  upon  him  hastily,  for  fear  of  more 
resort,  for  the  knight's  castle  was  so  nigh.  And  as  soon  as  he 
might,  he  took  his  horse  and  departed,  and  thanked  God  he  had 
escaped  that  adventure. 

And  two  days  before  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Sir  Launcelot 


84  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

came  home  ;  and  the  king  and  all  the  court  were  passing  glad  of 
his  coming.  And  when  Sir  Gavvain,  Sir  Uvvaine,  Sir  Sagramour, 
and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  Sir  Kay's  armor, 
then  they  wist  well  it  was  he  that  smote  them  down,  all  with  one 
spear.  Then  there  was  laughing  and  merriment  among  them ; 
and  from  time  to  time  came  all  the  knights  that  Sir  Turquine 
had  prisoners,  and  they  all  honored  and  worshipped  Sir  Launce-  ^ 
lot.  Then  Sir  Gaheris  said,  **I  saw  all  the  battle  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end,"  and  he  told  King  Arthur  all  how  it  was. 
Then  Sir  Kay  told  the  king  how  Sir  Launcelot  had  rescued  him, 
and  how  he  **made  the  knights  yield  to  me,  and  not  to  him." 
And  there  they  were,  all  three,  and  confirmed  it  all.  **  And,  by 
my  faith,"  said  Sir  Kay,  **  because  Sir  Launcelot  took  my  har- 
ness and  left  me  his,  I  rode  in  peace,  and  no  man  would  have  to 
do  with  me." 

And  so  at  that  time  Sir  Launcelot  had  the  greatest  name  of 
any  knight  of  the  world,  and  most  was  he  honored  of  high  and 
low. 

The  mixed  character  of  Sir  Launcelot  runs  all  through  his 
life.      He  was  the  incarnation  of  right  and  wrong. 

A  princely  knight, 
Whose  blended  life  brought  weal  and  woe 
Unto  his  king. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Adventure  of  the  Cart. 

It  befell  in  the  month  of  May,  Queen  Guinevere  called  to 
her  knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  gave  them  warning  that 
early  upon  the  morrow  she  would  ride  a  maying  into  the  woods 
and  fields  beside  Westminster;  ''and  I  warn  you  that  there  be 
none  of  you  but  he  be  well  horsed,  and  that  ye  all  be  clothed  in 
green,  either  silk  or  cloth ;  and  I  shall  bring  with  me  ten  ladies, 
and  every  knight  shall  have  a  lady  behind  him,  and  every  knight 
shall  have  a  squire  and  two  yeomen,  and  all  well  horsed :" 

**  For  thus  it  chanced  one  morn  when  all  the  court, 
Green-suited,  but  with  plumes  that  mock'd  the  May, 
Had  been,  their  wont,  a-maying." — Guinevere. 


So  upon  the  morn  they  took  their  horses  with  the  queen,  and 
rode  a-maying  in  woods  and  meadows,  as  it  pleased  them,  in 
great  joy  and  delight.  Now  there  was  a  knight  named  Malea- 
gans,  son  to  King  Brademagus,  who  loved  Queen  Guinevere  pass- 
ing well,  and  so  had  he  done  long  and  many  years.  Now  this 
.  knight,  Sir  Maleagans,  learned  the  queen's  purpose,  and  that  she 
^  had  no  men  of  arms  with  her  but  the  ten  noble  knights  all 
arrayed  in  green  for  maying ;  so  he  prepared  him  twenty  men 
of  arms,  and  a  hundred  archers,  to  take  captive  the  queen  and 
her  knights : 

**  In  the  merry  month  of  May, 
In  a  morn  at  break  of  day. 
With  a  troop  of  damsels  playing, 

The  Queen,  forsooth,  went  forth  a-maying." — Old  Song. 

(85) 


86  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

So  when  the  queen  had  mayed,  and  all  were  bedecked  with 
herbs,  mosses  and  flowers  in  the  best  manner  and  freshest,  right 
then  came  out  of  a  wood  Sir  Maleagans  with  eightscore  men  well 
harnessed,  and  bade  the  queen  and  her  knights  yield  them  pris- 
oners. "  Traitor  knight,"  said  Queen  Guinevere,  ''what  wilt 
thou  do?  Wilt  thou  shame  thyself ?  Bethink  thee  how  thou  art 
a  king's  son,  and  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  how  thou 
art  about  to  dishonor  all  knighthood  and  thyself."  '*  Be  it  as  it 
may,"  said  Sir  Maleagans,  ''know  you  well,  madam,  I  have  loved 
you  many  a  year,  and  never  till  now  could  I  get  you  to  such  ad- 
vantage as  I  do  now  ;  and  therefore  I  will  take  you  as  I  find 
you."  Then  the  ten  knights  of  the  Round  Table  drew  their 
swords,  and  the  other  party  run  at  them  with  their  spears,  and 
the  ten  knights  manfully  abode  them,  and  smote  away  their 
spears.  Then  they  lashed  together  with  swords,  till  several  were 
smitten  to  the  earth.  So  when  the  queen  saw  her  knights  thus 
dolefully  oppressed,  and  needs  must  be  slain  at  the  last,  then  for 
pity  and  sorrow  she  cried,  "  Sir  Maleagans,  slay  not  my  noble 
knights  and  I  will  go  with  you,  upon  this  covenant,  that  they  be 
led  with  me  wheresoever  thou  leadest  me. "  "Madame,"  said 
Maleagans,  "  for  your  sake  they  shall  be  led  with  you  into  my 
own  castle,  if  that  ye  will  be  ruled,  and  ride  with  me."  Then 
Sir  Maleagans  charged  them  all  that  none  should  depart  from  the 
queen,  for  he  dreaded  lest  Sir  Launcelot  should  have  knowledge 
of  what  had  been  done. 

Then  the  queen  privily  called  unto  her  a  page  of  her  chamber 
that  was  swiftly  horsed,  to  whom  she  said,  "  Go  thou  when  thou 
seest  thy  time,  and  bear  this  ring  unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  pray 
him  as  he  loveth  me  that  he  will  see  me  and  rescue  me.  And 
spare  not  thy  horse,"  said  the  queen,  "neither  for  water  nor, 
for  land."  So  the  child  espied  his  time,  and  lightly  he  took 
his  horse  with  the  spurs,  and  departed  as  fast  as  he  might.  And 
when  Sir  Maleagans  saw  him  so  flee,  he  understood  that  it  was 
by  the  queen's  commandment  for  to  warn  Sir  Launcelot.  Then 
they  that  were  best  horsed  chased  him,  and  shot  at  him,  but  the 
child  went  from  them  all.  Then  Sir  Maleagans  said  to  the 
queen,  "  Madam,  ye  are  about  to  betray  me,  but  I  shall  arrange 
for  Sir  Launcelot  that  he  shall  not  come  lightly  at  you."  Then  ~ 
he  rode  with  her  and  them  all  to  his  castle,  in  all  the  haste  that 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART  8/ 

they  might.  And  by  the  way  Sir  Maleagans  laid  in  ambush  the 
best  archers  that  he  had  to  wait  for  Sir  Launcelot.  And  the  child 
came  to  Westminster,  and  found  Sir  Launcelot,  and  told  his  mes- 
sage, and  delivered  him  the  queen's  ring.  *'Alas!"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  * '  now  am  I  shamed  for  ever,  unless  I  may  rescue  that 
noble  lady."  Then  eagerly  he  asked  his  armor,  and  put  it  on 
him,  and  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  as  fast  as  he  might ;  and 
men  say  he  took  the  water  at  Westminster  Bridge,  and  made  his 
horse  swim  over  Thames  unto  Lambeth.  Then  within  a  while 
he  came  to  a  wood,  where  was  a  narrow  way ;  and  there  the 
archers  were  laid  in  ambush.  And  they  shot  at  him,  and  smote 
his  horse,  so  that  he  fell.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  left  his  horse  and 
went  on  foot,  but  there  lay  so  many  ditches  and  hedges  betwixt 
the  archers  and  him  that  he  might  not  meddle  with  them. 
*' Alas  !  for  shame,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  ever  one  knight 
should  betray  another !  but  it  is  an  old  saw,  a  good  man  is  never 
in  danger  but  when  he  is  in  danger  of  a  coward."  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  went  awhile,  and  he  was  exceedingly  cumbered  by  his 
armor,  his  shield,  and  his  spear,  and  all  that  belonged  to  him. 
Then  by  chance  there  came  by  him  a  cart  that  came  thither  to 
fetch  wood. 

Now  at  this  time  carts  were  little  used  except  for  carrying  offal 
and  for  conveying  criminals  to  execution.  But  Sir  Launcelot 
took  no  thought  of  anything  but  the  necessity  of  haste  for  the 
purpose  of  rescuing  the  queen  ;  so  he  demanded  of  the  carter 
that  he  should  take  him  in,  and  convey  him  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible for  a  liberal  reward.  The  carter  consented,  and  Sir  Laun- 
celot placed  himself  in  the  cart,  and  only  lamented  that  with 
much  jolting  he  made  but  little  progress.  Then  it  happened  Sir 
Gawain  passed  by,  and  seeing  an  armed  knight  travelling  in  that 
unusual  way,  he  drew  near  to  see  who  it  might  be.  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  told  him  how  the  queen  had  been  carried  off,  and 
how,  in  hastening  to  her  rescue,  his  horse  had  been  disabled,  and 
he  had  been  compelled  to  avail  himself  of  the  cart  rather  than 
give  up  his  enterprise.  Then  Sir  Gawain  said,  "  Surely  it  is  un- 
worthy of  a  knight  to  travel  in  such  sort;"  but  Sir  Launcelot 
heeded  him  not. 

At  nightfall  they  arrived  at  a  castle,  and  the  lady  thereof 
came  out  at  the  head  of  her  damsels  to  welcome  Sir  Gawain. 


88  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

But  to  admit  his  companion,  whom  she  supposed  to  be  a  criminal, 
or  at  least  a  prisoner,  it  pleased  her  not ;  however,  to  oblige  Sir 
Gawain,  she  consented.  At  supper  Sir  Launcelot  came  near 
being  consigned  to  the  kitchen,  and  was  only  admitted  to  the 
lady's  table  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Sir  Gawain.  Neither 
would  the  damsels  prepare  a  bed  for  him.  He  seized  the  first 
he  found  unoccupied,  and  was  left  undisturbed. 

Next  morning  he  saw  from  the  turrets  of  the  castle  a  train  ac- 
companying a  lady,  whom  he  imagined  to  be  the  queen.  Sir 
Gawain  thought  it  might  be  so,  and  became  equally  eager  to 
depart.  The  lady  of  the  castle  supplied  Sir  Launcelot  with  a 
horse,  and  they  traversed  the  plain  at  full  speed.  They  learned 
from  some  travellers  whom  they  met  that  there  were  two  roads 
which  led  to  the  castle  of  Sir  Maleagans.  Here  therefore  the 
friends  separated.  Sir  Launcelot  found  his  way  beset  with 
obstacles,  which  he  encountered  successfully,  but  not  without 
much  loss  of  time.  As  evening  approached,  he  was  met  by  a 
young  and  sportive  damsel,  who  gayly  proposed  to  him  a  supper 
at  her  castle.  The  knight,  who  was  hungry  and  weary,  accepted 
the  offer,  though  with  no  very  good  grace.  He  followed  the 
lady  to  her  castle,  and  eat  voraciously  of  her  supper,  but  was 
quite  impenetrable  to  all  her  amorous  advances.  Suddenly  the 
scene  changed,  and  he  was  assailed  by  six  furious  ruffians,  whom 
he  dealt  with  so  vigorously  that  most  of  them  were  speedily 
disabled,  when  again  there  was  a  change,  and  he  found  himself 
alone  with  his  fair  hostess,  who  informed  him  that  she  was  none 
other  than  his  guardian  fairy,  who  had  but  subjected  him  to  tests 
of  his  courage  and  fidelity.  The  next  day  the  fairy  brought 
him  on  his  road,  and  before  parting  gave  him  a  ring,  which  she 
told  him  would  by  its  changes  of  color  disclose  to  him  all  en- 
chantments, and  enable  him  to  subdue  them. 

Sir  Launcelot  pursued  his  journey,  without  being  much  in- 
commoded except  by  the  taunts  of  travellers,  who  all  seemed  to 
have  learned,  by  some  means,  his  disgraceful  drive  in  the  cart. 
One,  more  insolent  than  the  rest,  had  the  audacity  to  interrupt 
him  during  dinner,  and  even  to  risk  a  battle  in  support  of  his 
pleasantry.  Launcelot,  after  an  easy  victory,  only  doomed  him 
to  be  carted  in  his  turn. 

At  night  he  was    received  at  another   castle  with  great  ap- 


Flight  of  Sir  Launcelot. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART.  89 

parent  cordiality,  but  found  himself  in  the  morning  in  a  dungeon, 
and  loaded  with  chains.  Consulting  his  ring,  and  finding  that 
this  was  an  enchantment,  he  burst  his  chains,  seized  his  armor  in 
spite  of  the  visionary  monsters  who  attempted  to  defend  it,  broke 
open  the  gates  of  the  tower,  and  continued  his  journey.  At 
length  his  progress  was  checked  by  a  wide  and  rapid  torrent, 
which  could  only  be  passed  on  a  narrow  bridge,  on  which  a  false 
step  would  prove  his  destruction.  Launcelot,  leading  his  horse 
by  the  bridle,  and  making  him  swim  by  his  side,  passed  over  the 
bridge,  and  was  attacked  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  bank  by  a 
lion  and  a  leopard,  both  of  which  he  slew,  and  then,  exhausted 
and  bleeding,  seated  himself  on  the  grass  and  endeavored  to 
bind  up  his  wounds,  when  he  was  accosted  by  Brademagus,  the 
father  of  Maleagans,  whose  castle  was  then  in  sight,  and  at  no 
great  distance.  This  king,  no  less  courteous  than  his  son  was 
haughty  and  insolent,  after  complimenting  Sir  Launcelot  on  the 
valor  and  skill  he  had  displayed  in  the  perils  of  the  bridge  and 
the  wild  beasts,  offered  him  his  assistance,  and  informed  him 
that  the  queen  was  safe  in  his  castle,  but  could  only  be  rescued 
by  encountering  Maleagans.  Launcelot  demanded  the  battle  for 
the  next  day,  and  accordingly  it  took  place,  at  the  foot  of  the 
tower,  and  under  the  eyes  of  the  fair  captive.  Launcelot  was 
enfeebled  by  his  wounds,  and  fought  not  with  his  usual  spirit, 
and  the  contest  for  a  time  was  doubtful  ;  till  Guinevere  ex- 
claimed, '*  Ah,  Launcelot  !  my  knight,  truly  have  I  been  told 
that  thou  art  no  longer  worthy  of  me  !"  These  words  instantly 
revived  the  drooping  knight  ;  he  resumed  at  once  his  usual 
superiority,  and  soon  laid  at  his  feet  his  haughty  adversary. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  sacrificing  him  to  his  resentment, 
when  Guinevere,  moved  by  the  entreaties  of  Brademagus,  ordered 
him  to  withhold  the  blow,  and  he  obeyed.  The  castle  and  its 
prisoners  were  now  at  his  disposal.  Launcelot  hastened  to  the 
apartment  of  the  queen,  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  was  about 
to  kiss  her  hand,  when  she  exclaimed,  **Ah,  Launcelot!  why 
do  I  see  thee  again,  yet  feel  thee  to  be  no  longer  worthy  of 
me,  after  having  been  disgracefully  drawn  about  the  country  in 

a "     She  had  not  time  to  finish  the  phrase,  for  her  lover 

suddenly  started  from  her,  and,  bitterly  lamenting  that  he  had 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sovereign  lady,  rushed  out  of  the 


90  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

castle,  threw  his  sword  and  his  shield  to  the  right  and  left,  ran 
furiously  into  the  woods,  and  disappeared. 

It  seems  that  the  story  of  the  abominable  cart,  which  haunted 
Launcelot  at  every  step,  had  reached  the  ears  of  Sir  Kay,  who 
had  told  it  to  the  queen,  as  a  proof  that  her  knight  must  have 
been  dishonored.  But  Guinevere  had  full  leisure  to  repent  the 
haste  with  which  she  had  given  credit  to  the  tale.  Three  days 
elapsed,  during  which  Launcelot  wandered  without  knpwing 
where  he  went,  till  at  last  he  began  to  reflect  that  his  mistress 
had  doubtless  been  deceived  by  misrepresentation,  and  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  set  her  right.  He  therefore  returned,  compelled 
Maleagans  to  release  his  prisoners,  and,  taking  the  road  by 
which  they  expected  the  arrival  of  Sir  Gawain,  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  meeting  him  the  next  day  ;  after  which  the  whole  com- 
pany proceeded  gayly  towards  Camelot. 


* 


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9 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Lady  of  Sha-lott'-E-laine'. 

The  Lady  of  Sha-lott'. 

King  Arthur  proclaimed  a  solemn  tournament  to  be  held  at 
Winchester.  The  king,  not  less  impatient  than  his  knights  for 
this  festival,  set  off  some  days  before  to  superintend  the  prep- 
arations, leaving  the  queen  with  her  court  at  Camelot.  Sir 
Launcelot,  under  pretence  of  indisposition,  remained  behind 
also.  His  intention  was  to  attend  the  tournament  in  disguise  ; 
and  having  communicated  his  project  to  Guinevere,  he  mounted 
his  horse,  set  off  without  any  attendant,  and,  counterfeiting  the 
feebleness  of  age,  took  the  most  unfrequented  road  to  Winches- 
ter, and  passed  unnoticed  as  an  old  knight  who  was  going  to  be 
a  spectator  of  the  sports.  Even  Arthur  and  Gawain,  who  hap- 
pened to  behold  him  from  the  windows  of  a  castle  under  which 
he  passed,  were  the  dupes  of  his  disguise.  But  an  accident  be- 
trayed him.  His  horse  happened  to  stumble,  and  the  hero,  for- 
getting for  a  moment  his  assumed  character,  recovered  the 
animal  with  a  strength  and  agility  so  peculiar  to  himself  that 
they  instantly  recognized  the  inimitable  Launcelot.  They  suf- 
fered him,  however,  to  proceed  on  his  journey  without  inter- 
ruption, convinced  that  his  extraordinary  feats  of  arms  must 
discover  him  at  the  approaching  festival. 

In  the  evening  launcelot  was  magnificently  entertained  as  a 
Stranger  knight  at  the  neighboring  castle  of  Shalott, 

(  91  ) 


92  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

**0n  either  side  the  river  lie 
Long  fields  of  barley  and  of  rye, 
That  clothe  the  wold  and  meet  the  sky  ; 
And  thro'  the  field  the  road  runs  by 

To  many-tower' d  Camelot ; 
And  up  and  down  the  people  go, 
Gazing  where  the  lilies  blow 
Round  an  island  there  below, 

The  island  of  Shalott. 

Willows  whiten,  aspens  quiver, 
Little  breezes  dusk  and  shiver 
Thro'  the  wave  that  runs  forever 
By  the  island  in  the  river 

Flowing  down  to  Camelot. 
Four  gray  walls,  and  four  gray  towers, 
Overlook  a  space  of  flowers, 
And  the  silent  isle  imbowers 

The  Lady  of  Shalott." 

— The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

The  lord  of  this  castle  had  a  daughter  of  exquisite  beauty, 
and  two  sons  lately  received  into  the  order  of  knighthood,  one 
of  whom  was  at  that  time  ill  in  bed,  and  thereby  prevented  from 
attending  the  tournament,  for  which  both  brothers  had  long 
made  preparations.  Launcelot  offered  to  attend  the  other,  if  he 
were  permitted  to  borrow  the  armor  of  the  invalid,  and  the  lord 
of  Shalott,  without  knowing  the  name  of  his  guest,  being  satis- 
fied from  his  appearance  that  his  son  could  not  have  a  better 
assistant  in  arms,  most  thankfully  accepted  the  offer.  In  the 
meantime  the  young  lady,  who  had  been  much  struck  by  the 
first  appearance  of  the  stranger  knight,  continued  to  survey  him 
with  increased  attention,  and,  before  the  conclusion  of  supper, 
became  so  deeply  enamored  of  him  that,  after  frequent  changes 
of  color,  and  other  symptoms  which  Sir  Launcelot  could  not 
possibly  mistake,  she  was  obliged  to  retire  to  her  chamber  and 
seek  relief  in  tears. 

*'  He  spoke  and  ceased. 
The  lily  maid,  Elaine,  won  by  the  mellow  voice, 
Lifted  her  eyes  and  read  his  lineaments." — Elaine. 

Sir  Launcelot  hastened  to  convey  to  her,  by  means  of  her 
brother,  the  information  that  his  heart  was  already  disposed  of. 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  93 

but  that  it  would  be  his  pride  and  pleasure  to  act  as  her  knight 
at  the  approaching  tournament.  The  lady,  obliged  to  be  satis- 
fied with  that  courtesy,  presented  him  her  scarf  to  be  worn  at 
the  tournament. 

Launcelot  set  off  in  the  morning  with  the  young  knight,  who, 
on  approaching  AV' inchester,  carried  him  to  the  castle  of  a  lady, 
sister  to  the  lord  of  Shalott,  by  whom  they  were  hospitably  en- 
tertained. The  next  day  they  put  on  their  armor,  which  was 
perfectly  plain,  and  without  any  device,  as  was  usual  to  youths 
during  the  first  year  of  knighthood,  their  shields  being  only 
painted  red,  as  some  color  was  necessary  to  enable  them  to  be 
recognized  by  their  attendants. 

"  A  bow-shot  from  her  bower-eaves, 
He  rode  between  the  barley-sheaves. 
The  sun  came  dazzling  thro'  the  leaves, 
And  flamed  upon  the  brazen  greaves 

Of  bold  Sir  Launcelot. 
A  red-cross  knight  forever  kneel'd 
To  a  lady  in  his  shield, 
That  sparkled  on  the  yellow  field, 
Beside  remote  Shalott." 

— The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Launcelot  wore  on  his  crest  the  scarf  of  the  maid  of  Shalott, 
and,  thus  equipped,  proceeded  to  the  tournament,  where  the 
knights  were  divided  into  two  companies,  the  one  commanded 
by  Sir  Galehaut,  the  other  by  King  Arthur.  Having  surveyed 
the  combat  for  a  short  time  from  without  the  lists,  and  observed 
that  Sir  Galehaut' s  party  began  to  give  way,  they  joined  the 
press  and  attacked  the  royal  knights,  the  young  man  choosing 
such  adversaries  as  were  suited  to  his  strength,  while  his  com- 
panion selected  the  principal  champions  of  the  Round  Table, 
and  successively  overthrew  Gawain,  Bohort,  and  Lionel.  The 
astonishment  of  the  spectators  was  extreme,  for  it  was  thought 
that  no  one  but  Launcelot  could  possess  such  invincible  force  ; 
yet  the  favor  on  his  crest  seemed  to  preclude  the  possibility  of 
his  being  thus  disguised,  for  Launcelot  had  never  been  known  to 
wear  the  badge  of  any  but  his  sovereign  lady.  At  length  Sir 
Hector,  Launcelot' s  brother,  engaged  him,  and  after  a  dreadful 
combat  wounded  him  dangerously  in  the  head,  but  was  himself 


94  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

completely  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  helmet,  and  felled  to  the 
ground ;  after  which  the  conqueror  rode  off  at  full  speed, 
attended  by  his  companion. 

They  returned  to  the  castle  of  Shalott,  where  T^uncelot  was 
attended  with  the  greatest  care  by  the  good  earl,  by  his  two 
sons,  and,  above  all,  by  his  fair  daughter,  whose  medical  skill 
probably  much  hastened  the  period  of  his  recovery.  His  health 
was  almost  completely  restored,  when  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Robert, 
and  Sir  Lionel,  who,  after  the  return  of  the  court  to  Camelot,  had 
undertaken  the  quest  of  their  relation,  discovered  him  walking 
on  the  walls  of  the  castle.  Their  meeting  was  very  joyful ;  they 
passed  three  days  in  the  castle  amidst  constant  festivities,  and 
bantered  each  other  on  the  events  of  the  tournament.  Launcelot, 
though  he  began  by  vowing  vengeance  against  the  author  of  his 
wound,  yet  ended  by  declaring  that  he  felt  rewarded  for  the  pain 
by  the  pride  he  took  in  witnessing  his  brother's  extraordinary 
prowess.  He  then  dismissed  them  with  a  message  to  the  queen, 
promising  to  follow  immediately,  it  being  necessary  that  he 
should  first  take  a  formal  leave  of  his  kind  hosts,  as  well  as  of 
the  fair  maid  of  Shalott. 

The  young  lady,  after  vainly  attempting  to  detain  him  by  her 
tears  and  solicitations,  saw  him  depart  without  leaving  her  any 
ground  for  hope. 

It  was  early  summer  when  the  tournament  took  place ;  but 
some  months  had  passed  since  Launcelot' s  departure,  and  winter 
was  now  near  at  hand.  The  health  and  strength  of  the  Lady  of 
Shalott  had  gradually  sunk,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not  live 
apart  from  the  object  of  her  affections.  She  left  the  castle,  and, 
descending  to  the  river's  brink,  placed  herself  in  a  boat,  which 
she  loosed  from  its  moorings,  and  suffered  to  bear  her  down  the 
current  toward  Camelot. 

One  morning,  as  Sir  Arthur  and  Sir  Lionel  looked  from  the 
window  of  the  tower,  the  walls  of  which  were  washed  by  a  river, 
they  descried  a  boat  richly  ornamented,  and  covered  with  an  awning 
of  cloth  of  gold,  which  appeared  to  be  floating  down  the  stream 
without  any  human  guidance.  It  struck  the  shore  while  they 
watched  it,  and  they  hastened  down  to  examine  it.  Beneath  the  awn- 
ing they  discovered  the  dead  body  of  a  beautiful  woman,  in  whose 
features  Sir  Lionel  easily  recognized  the  lovely  maid  of  Shalott. 


or  THE 

UNIVERSHTV 

OF 


Elaine  in  the  Tower. 


r, 


OFTHE 


ELAINE.  95 

*•  Who  is  this  ?  and  what  is  here  ? 
And  in  the  lighted  palace  near 
Died  the  sound  of  royal  cheer ; 
And  they  crossed  themselves  for  fear, 

All  the  knights  at  Camelot. 
But  Launcelot  mused  a  little  space  ; 
lie  said,  '  She  has  a  lovely  face ; 
God  in  his  mercy  lend  her  grace. 
The  Lady  of  Shalott.'  " 

— The  Lady  of  Shaloit. 

Pursuing  their  search,  they  discovered  a  purse  richly  embroid- 
ered with  gold  and  jewels,  and  within  the  purse  a  letter,  which 
Arthur  opened  and  found  addressed  to  himself  and  all  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table,  stating  that  launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
the  most  accomplished  of  knights  and  most  beautiful  of  men, 
but  at  the  same  time  the  most  cruel  and  inflexible,  had  by  his 
rigor  produced  the  death  of  the  wretched  maiden,  whose  love 
was  no  less  invincible  than  his  cruelty.  The  king  immediately 
gave  orders  for  the  interment  of  the  lady,  with  all  the  honors 
suited  to  her  rank,  at  the  same  time  explaining  to  the  knights 
the  history  of  her  affection  for  Launcelot,  which  moved  the 
compassion  and  regret  of  all. 

The  Lady  of  Shalott  has  been  retold  so  admirably  by  Tenny- 
son, under  the  title  of  "  Elaine,"  in  "The  Idylls  of  the  King," 
we  have  thought  well  to  extend  this  chapter,  although  it  involves 
in  part  a  repetition  of  the  above. 

E-laine'. 

The  name  of  Elaine  is  most  closely  associated  with  that  of  Laun- 
celot's.  She  was  a  sister  to  Sir  Tor,  and  the  daughter  of  Pellenore, 
the  king.  Her  love  for  Launcelot  developed  into  an  undying 
passion.  This  awoke  the  jealousy  of  Guinevere,  who  ordered 
her  as  a  rival  to  retire  from  the  court.  Elaine  returned  to  her 
father's  palace,  and  spent  her  time  in  burnishing  Launcelot's 
shield. 


Elaine,  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat, 

High  in  her  chamber  up  a  tower  to  the  east. 

Guarded  the  sacred  shield  of  Launcelot ; 


96  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Which  first  she  placed  where  morning's  earliest  ray 
Might  strike  it,  and  awake  her  with  the  gleam." — Elaine. 

Sir  Launcelot  in  the  meantime  had  abandoned  Camelot,  and 
for  two  years  lived  alone  in  the  forest.  While  there  he  was 
attacked  by  a  wild  boar  and  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  Here 
he  was  found  by  a  poor  hermit,  who  took  him  to  his  hermitage 
and  healed  him  of  his  wounds.  Sir  Launcelot,  with  his  return- 
ing strength,  wandered  into  the  city  and  sought  refuge  in  the 
king's  palace.  One  day  he  fell  asleep  by  the  well,  and  was  dis- 
covered by  Elaine.  He  was  at  once  carried  into  the  tower  and 
healed  by  the  sight  of  the  Holy  Grail.  When  his  reason  returned 
he  asked  how  he  came  to  be  at  King  Pellenore's  court.  He  was 
told  by  Elaine  that  he  had  come  as  a  mad  man,  and  but  for  her 
his  identity  had  not  been  discovered.  Launcelot  determined 
from  then  on  to  remain  at  Astolat  and  never  return  to  Camelot 
again.  King  Pellenore  built  hnn  a  palace,  and  for  a  time  he 
appeared  to  be  content.  But  the  knightly  passion  was  strong 
upon  him.  A  tournament  was  to  be  held  at  Camelot,  and 
Launcelot  determined  to  be  present. 

"Then  answer' d  Launcelot,  the  chief  of  knights, 
*  But  since  I  go  to  joust  as  one  unknown, 
Hereafter  you  shall  know  me — and  the  shield — 
I  pray  you  lend  me  one,  if  such  you  have, 
Blank,  or  at  least  with  some  device  not  mine.'  " — Elaine. 

The  Lord  of  Astolat  gave  him  the  shield  of  his  son  Tor. 
Launcelot  wore  the  colors  of  Elaine,  and  entered  the  lists  un- 
known.    It  was  a  battle  of  the  giants. 

*'  They  couch' d  their  spears  and  prick' d  their  steeds  and  thus. 
Their  plumes  driv'n  backward  by  the  wind  they  made 
In  moving,  all  together  down  upon  him 
Bare,  as  a  wild  wave  in  the  wide  North  Sea." — Elaine. 

The  spectators  were  wild  with   excitement,  and  all   wondered 
who  the  unknown  knight  might  be.     Presently  it  was  whispered 

*♦  Is  it  Launcelot  who  has  come 
Despite  the  wound  he  spake  of,  all  for  gain 
Of  glory,  and  has  added  wound  to  wound?" — Elaine. 


ELAINE.  9/ 

Launcelot  having  been  severely  wounded,  he  was  carried  from 
the  field  and  taken  to  a  hermit's  cave.     Elaine  sought  him  out. 


Sir  Launcelot  Wounded. 

**  And  when  they  gain'd  the  cell  in  which  he  slept. 
His  battle-writhen  arms  and  mighty  hands 
Lay  naked  on  a  wolfskin,  and  a  dream 
Of  dragging  down  his  enemy  made  them  move. 
Then  she  that  saw  him  lying  unsleek,  unshorn. 
Gaunt  as  it  were  the  skeleton  of  himself, 
Uttered  a  little  tender  dolorous  cry." — Elaine. 

After  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  he  was  removed  to  Astolat, 
where  Elaine  continued  to  be  his  nurse.  But  the  knight's 
thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

' '  And  Launcelot 
Would,  tho'  he  call'd  his  wound  a  little  hurt 
Whereof  he  should  be  quickly  whole,  at  times 
Brain-feverous  in  his  heat  and  agony,  seem 
Uncourteous,  even  he." — Elaine. 


98  RING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Upon  his  recovery  Launcelot  resolved  to  return  to  Camelot. 
Elaine  sat  at  the  window  when  the  knight  rode  by.  He  knew 
that  she  was  there. 

•*  And  yet  he  glanced  not  up  nor  waved  his  hand." — Elaine. 

Sir  Launcelot  tried  to  forget  Elaine  and  the  associations  of 
Shalott.      His  manner  indicated  a  most  heartless  spirit. 

*'  His  broad  clear  brow  in  sunlight  glow'd  ; 
On  burnish' d  hooves  his  war-horse  trode, 
From  underneath  his  helmet  flow'd 
His  coal-black  curls  as  on  he  rode. 

As  he  rode  down  to  Camelot. 
From  the  bank  and  from  the  river 
He  flash' d  into  the  crystal  mirror, 
*  Tirra  lirra,'  by  the  river, 

Sang  Sir  Launcelot." 

— The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Elaine  was  thus  left  alone,  while  Guinevere  was  made  happy 
by  launcelot' s  return. 

*  *  So  in  her  tower  alone  the  maiden  sat : 
His  very  shield  was  gone  ;  only  the  case, 
Her  own  poor  work,  her  empty  labor,  left." — ^laine. 

She  wandered  aimlessly  through  the  palace  singing  a  strange 
monody  which  she  called  her  song,  ''The  Song  of  Love  and 

Death." 

*'  Sweet  is  true  love  tho'  given  in  vain,  in  vain  ; 
And  sweet  is  death  who  puts  an  end  to  pain  : 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

**  Love,  art  thou  sweet?  then  bitter  death  must  be  : 
Love,  thou  art  bitter  ;  sweet  is  death  to  me. 

0  Love,  if  death  be  sweeter,  let  me  die. 

"  Sweet  love,  that  seems  not  made  to  fade  away, 
Sweet  death,  that  seems  to  make  us  loveless  clay, 

1  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

**  I  fain  would  follow  love,  if  that  could  be  ; 
I  needs  must  follow  death,  who  calls  for  me  ; 
Call  and  I  follow,  I  follow  !  let  me  die." 


ELAINE.  99 

One  day  she  called  her  father,  and  asked  that  he  write  a  letter 
in  her  name  and  address  it  to  Launcelot  and  the  Queen. 

*'  And  lay  the  letter  in  my  hand 
A  little  ere  I  die,  and  close  the  hand 
Upon  it  ;  I  shall  guard  it  even  in  death. 
And  when  the  heat  is  gone  from  out  my  heart, 
Then  take  the  little  bed  on  which  I  died 
For  Launcelot' s  love,  and  deck  it  like  the  Queen's 
For  richness,  and  me  also  like  the  Queen 
In  all  I  have  of  rich,  and  lay  me  on  it. 
And  let  there  be  prepared  a  chariot-bier 
To  take  me  to  the  river,  and  a  barge 

Be  ready  on  the  river,  clothed  in  black.  ^ 

I  go  in  state  to  court,  to  meet  the  Queen. 
There  surely  I  shall  speak  for  mine  own  self, 
And  none  of  you  can  speak  for  me  so  well. 
And  therefore  let  our  dumb  old  man  alone 
Go  with  me,  he  can  steer  and  row,  and  he 
Will  guide  me  to  that  palace,  to  the  doors." — Elaine. 

The  father  promised,  thinking  the  request  more  fantasy  than 
real. 

**  But  ten  slow  mornings  past,  and  on  the  eleventh 
Her  father  laid  the  letter  in  her  hand. 
And  closed  the  hand  upon  it,  and  she  died. 
So  that  day  there  was  dole  in  Astolat." — Elaine. 

She  was  borne  by  her  two  brothers  to  the  river,  where  the  barge 
was  in  readiness.  Tl^ey  laid  her  upon  a  couch,  and  placing  a 
lily  in  her  hands,  turned  away  in  sorrow : 

*'  Then  rose  the  dumb  old  servitor,  and  the  dead 
Steer' d  by  the  dumb  went  upward  with  the  flood." — EiAiNE. 

The  barge  floated  on  until  it  came  near  to  the  Castle  of  Came 
lot.      Launcelot  was  the  first  to  see  it : 

"Then  while  Sir  Launcelot  leant,  in  half  disgust 
At  love,  life,  all  things,  on  the  window-ledge. 
Close  underneath  his  eyes,  and  right  across 
Where  these  had  fallen,  slowly  past  the  barge 
Whereon  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat 
Lay  smiling,  like  a  star  in  blackest  night. 
Then  turned  the  tongueless  man 
From  the  half-face  to  the  full-eye,  and  rose 
And  pointed  to  the  damsel." — Elaine. 


100  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

Sir  Arthur  ordered  the  dead  to  be  brought  within  the  palace. 
And  as  he  stood  gazing  upon  her  face — 

•*  He  spied  the  letter  in  her  hand, 
Stoopt,  took,  brake  seal,  and  read  it ;  this  was  all. 

'  Most  noble  lord,  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
I,  sometime  call'd  the  maid  of  Astolat, 
Come,  for  you  left  me  taking  no  farewell. 
Hither,  to  take  my  last  farewell  of  you. 
I  loved  you,  and  my  love  had  no  return, 
And  therefore  my  true  love  has  been  my  death. 
And  therefore  to  our  lady  Guinevere, 
And  to  all  other  ladies,  I  make  moan. 
Pray  for  my  soul,  and  yield  me  burial. 
Pray  for  my  soul  thou  too,  Sir  Launcelot, 
As  thou  art  a  knight  peerless. ' 

Thus  he  read, 
And  ever  in  the  reading,  lords  and  dames 
Wept,  looking  often  from  his  face  who  reid 
To  hers  which  lay  so  silent,  and  at  times, 
So  touched  were  they,  half- thinking  that  her  lips. 
Who  had  devised  the  letter,  moved  again." — Elaine. 

Sir  Launcelot  confessed  that  Elaine's  love  surpassed  that  of  all 
women,  but  to  be  loved  makes  not  to  love  again.  The  Queen 
reproached  him,  but — 

"  Launcelot  answer' d  nothing  ;  he  only  went, 
And  at  the  inrunning  of  a  little  brook 
Sat  by  the  river  in  a  cove,  and  watcb'd 
The  high  reed  wave,  and  lifted  up  his  eyes 
And  saw  the  barge  that  brought  her  moving  down, 
Far  off,  a  blot  upon  the  stream,  and  said 
Low  in  himself,  'Ah,  simple  heart  and  sweet. 
You  loved  me,  damsel,  surely  with  a  love 
Far  tenderer  than  my  Queen's.     Pray  for  thy  soul ? 
Ay,  that  will  L     Farewell  too — now  at  last — 
Farewell'  " — Elaine. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Queen  Guin'e-vere's  PferiJ. 

It  happened  at  this  time  that  Queen  Guinevere  was  thrown 
into  great  peril  of  her  life.  A  certain  squire  who  was  in  her  im- 
mediate service,  having  some  cause  of  animosity  to  Sir  Gawain, 
determined  to  destroy  him  by  poison  at  a  public  entertainment. 
For  this  purpose  he  concealed  the  poison  in  an  apple  of  fine  ap- 
pearance, which  he  placed  on  the  top  of  several  others,  and  put 
the  dish  beforethe  queen,  hoping  that,  as  Sir  Gawain  was  the 
knight  of  greatest  dignity,  she  would  present  the  apple  to  him. 
But  it  happened  that  a  Scottish  knight  of  high  distinction,  who 
arrived  on  that  day,  was  seated  next  to  the  queen,  and  to  him  as 
a  stranger  she  presented  the  apple,  which  he  had  no  sooner  eaten 
than  he  was  seized  with  dreadful  pain,  and  fell  senseless.  The 
whole  court  was  of  course  thrown  into  confusion  ;  the  knights 
rose  from  table,  darting  looks  of  indignation  at  the  wretched 
queen,  whose  tears  and  protestations  were  unable  to  remove  their 
suspicions.  In  spite  of  all  that  could  be  done  the  knight  died, 
and  nothing  remained  but  to  order  a  magnificent  funeral  and 
monument  for  him,  which  was  done. 

Some  time  after.  Sir  Mador,  brother  of  the  murdered  knight, 
arrived  at  Arthur's  court  in  quest  of  him.  .While  hunting  in  the 
forest  he  by  chance  came  to  the  spot  where  the  monument  was 
erected,  read  the  inscription,  and  returned  to  court  determined 
on  immediate  and  signal  vengeance.  He  rode  into  the  hall, 
loudly  accused  the  queen  of  treason,  and  insisted  on  her  being 
given  up  to  punishment  unless  she  should  find,  by  a  certain  day. 

(  Joi  ) 


.702  .;  ;  • :  .  ',KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

a  knight  hardy  enough  to  risk  his  life  in  support  of  her  inno- 
cence. Arthur,  powerful  as  he  was,  did  not  dare  to  deny  the 
appeal,  but  was  compelled,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  accept  it,  and 
Mador  sternly  took  his  departure,  leaving  the  royal  couple 
plunged  in  terror  and  anxiety. 

During  all  this  time  Launcelot  was  absent,  and  no  one  knew 
where  he  was.  He  had  fled  in  anger  from  his  fair  mistress  upon 
being  reproached  by  her  with  his  passion  for  the  Lady  of  Shalott, 
which  she  had  hastily  inferred  from  his  wearing  her  scarf  at  the 
tournament.  He  took  up  his  abode  with  a  hermit  in  the  forest, 
and  resolved  to  think  no  more  of  the  cruel  beauty,  whose  con- 
duct he  thought  must  flow  from  a  wish  to  get  rid  of  him.  Yet 
calm  reflection  had  somewhat  cooled  his  indignation,  and  he  had 
begun  to  wish,  though  hardly  able  to  hope,  for  a  reconciliation, 
when  the  news  of  Sir  Mador' s  challenge  fortunately  reached  his 
'ears.  The  intelligence  revived  his  spirits,  and  he  began  to  pre- 
pare with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  for  a  contest  which,  if  success- 
ful, would  insure  him  at  once  the  aff'ection  of  his  mistress  and 
the  gratitude  of  his  sovereign. 

The  sad  fate  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  ere  this  completely 
acquitted  Launcelot  in  the  queen's  mind  of  all  suspicion  of  his 
fidelity,  and  she  lamented  most  grievously  her  foolish  quarrel 
with  him,  which  now,  at  her  time  of  need,  deprived  her  of  her 
most  efficient  champiom. 

As  the  day  appointed  by  Sir  Mador  was  fast  approaching,  it 
became  necessary  that  she  should  procure  a  champion  for  her 
defence ;  and  she  successively  adjured  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Lionel, 
Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Gawain  to  undertake  the  battle.  She  fell  on 
her  knees  before  them,  called  Heaven  to  witness  her  innocence  of 
the  crime  alleged  against  her,  but  was  sternly  answered  by  all 
that  they  could  not  fight  to  maintain  the  innocence  of  one  whose 
act,  and  fatal  consequences  of  it,  they  had  seen  with  their  own 
eyes.  She  retired,  therefore,  dejected  and  disconsolate  ;  but  the 
sight  of  the  fatal  pile  on  which,  if  guilty,  she  was  doomed  to  be 
burned,  excited  her  to  fresh  eff'ort ;  she  again  repaired  to  Sir 
Bohort,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and,  piteously  calling  on  him 
for  mercy,  fell  into  a  swoon.  The  brave  knight  was  not  proof 
against  this.  He  raised  her  up,  and  hastily  promised  that  he 
would  undertake  her  cause,  if  no  other  or  better  champion  should 


Q UEEN  G  UINEVEBE'S  PERIL.  1 03 

present  himself.  He  then  summoned  his  friends,  and  told  them 
his  resolution  ;  and  as  a  mortal  combat  with  Sir  Mador  was  a 
most  fearful  enterprise,  they  agreed  to  accompany  him  in  the 
morning  to  the  hermitage  in  the  forest,  where  he  proposed  to 
receive  absolution  from  the  hermit,  and  to  make  his  peace  with 
Heaven,  before  he  entered  the  lists.  As  they  approached  the 
hermitage,  they  espied  a  knight  riding  in  the  forest,  whom  they 
at  once  recognized  as  Sir  Launcelot.  Overjoyed  at  the  meeting, 
they  quickly,  in  answer  to  his  questions,  confirmed  the  news  of 
the  queen's  imminent  danger,  and  received  his  instructions  to 
return  to  court,  to  comfort  her  as  well  as  they  could,  but  to  say 
nothing  of  his  intention  of  undertaking  her  defence,  which  he 
meant  to  do  in  the  character  of  an  unknown  adventurer. 

On  their  return  to  the  castle  they  found  that  mass  was  finished, 
and  had  scarcely  time  to  speak  to  the  queen  before  they  were 
summoned  into  the  hall  to  dinner.  A  general  gloom  was  spread 
over  the  countenances  of  all  the  guests.  Arthur  himself  was 
unable  to  conceal  his  dejection,  and  the  wretched  Guinevere, 
motionless  and  bathed  in  tears,  sat  in  trembling  expectation  of 
Sir  Mador' s  appearance.  Nor  was  it  long  ere  he  stalked  into 
the  hall,  and  with-  a  voice  of  thunder,  rendered  more  impressive 
by  the  general  silence,  demanded  instant  judgment  on  the  guilty 
party.  Arthur  replied,  with  dignity,  that  little  of  the  day  was 
spent,  and  that  perhaps  a  champion  might  yet  be  found  capable 
of  satisfying  his  thirst  for  battle.  Sir  Bohort  now  rose  from 
table,  and,  shortly  returning  in  complete  armor,  resumed  his 
place,  after  receiving  the  embraces  and  thanks  of  the  king,  who 
now  began  to  resume  some  degree  of  confidence.  Sir  Mador, 
growing  impatient,  again  repeated  his  denunciations  of  vengeance, 
and  insisted  that  the  combat  should  no  longer  be  postponed. 

In  the  height  of  the  debate  there  came  riding  into  the  hall  a 
knight  mounted  on  a  black  steed,  and  clad  in  black  armor,  with 
his  visor  down,  and  lance  in  hand.  "  Sir,"  said  the  king,  *Ms 
it  your  will  to  alight  and  partake  of  our  cheer?"  *^Nay,  sir," 
he  replied  ;  **  I  come  to  save  a  lady's  life.  The  queen  hath  ill 
bestowed  her  favors,  and  honored  many  a  knight,  that  in  her 
hour  of  need  she  should  have  none  to  take  her  part.  Thou  that 
darest  accuse  her  of  treachery  stand  forth,  for  to-day  shalt  thou 
need  all  thy  might. ' ' 


104  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Sir  Mador,  though  surprised,  was  not  appalled  by  the  stern 
challenge  and  formidable  appearance  of  his  antagonist,  but  pre- 
pared for  the  encounter.  At  the  first  shock  both  were  unhorsed. 
They  then  drew  their  swords,  and  commenced  a  combat  which 
lasted  from  noon  till  evening,  when  Sir  Mador,  whose  strength 
began  to  fail,  was  felled  to  the  ground  by  Launcelot,  and  com- 
\pelled  to  sue  for  mercy.  The  victor,  whose  arm  was  already 
raised  to  terminate  the  life  of  his  opponent,  instantly  dropped 
his  sword,  courteously  lifted  up  the  fainting  Sir  Mador,  frankly 
confessing  that  he  had  never  before  encountered  so  formidable 
an  enemy.  The  other,  with  similar  courtesy,  solemnly  renounced 
all  further  projects  of  vengeance  for  his  brother's  death  ;  and  the 
two  knights,  now  become  fast  friends,  embraced  each  other  with 
the  greatest  cordiality.  In  the  meantime  Arthur,  having  recog- 
nized Sir  Launcelot,  whose  helmet  was  now  unlaced,  rushed 
down  into  the  lists,  followed  by  all  his  knights,  to  welcome  and 
thank  his  deliverer.  Guinevere  swooned  with  joy,/and  the  place 
of  combat  suddenly  exhibited  a  scene  of  the  most  tumultuous 
delight. 

The  general  satisfaction  was  still  further  increased  by  the  dis- 
covery of  the  real  culprit.  Having  accidentally  incurred  some 
suspicion,  he  confessed  his  crime,  and  was  publicly  punished  in 
the  presence  of  Sir  Mador. 

The  court  now  returned  to  the  castle,  which,  with  the  title  of 
*'  hsL  Joyeuse  Garde  "  bestowed  upon  it  in  memory  of  the  happy 
event,  was  conferred  on  Sir  Launcelot  by  Arthur,  as  a  memorial 
of  his  gratitude. 


CHAPTER    XII. 
Tris'tram  and  I-soude'. 

Meliadus  was  king  of  Leonois,  or  lionesse,  a  country  famous 
in  the  annals  of  romance,  which  adjoined  the  kingdom  of  Corn- 
wall, but  has  now  disappeared  from  the  map,  having  been,  it  is 
said,  overwhelmed  by  the  ocean.  Meliadus  was  married  to  Isa- 
bella, sister  of  Mark,  king  of  Cornwall.  A  fairy  fell  in  love 
with  him,  and  drew  him  away  by  enchantment  while  he  was 
engaged  in  hunting.  His  queen  set  out  in  quest  of  him,  but 
was  taken  ill  on  her  journey,  and  died,  leaving  an  infant  son, 
whom,  from  the  melancholy  circumstances  of  his  birth,  she 
called  Tristram. 

"  '  Son,'  she  said,  *  thy  name  shall  be  of  sorrow, 
Tristram  art  thou  called,  for  my  death's  sake.' 
So  she  said  and  died  in  the  drear  forest." 

— Matthew  Arnold. 


Gouvernail,  the  queen's  squire,  who  had  accompanied  her, 
took  charge  of  the  child,  and  restored  him  to  his  father,  who 
had  at  length  burst  the  enchantments  of  the  fairy,  and  returned 
home. 

Meliadus,  after  seven  years,  married  again,  and  the  new 
queen,    being  jealous    of    the    influence   of  Tristram   with   his 

(105) 


Io6  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

father,  laid  plots  for  his  life,  which  were  discovered  by  Gouver- 
nail,  who  in  consequence  fled  with  the  boy  to  the  court  of  the 
king  of  France,  where  Tristram  was  kindly  received,  and  grew 
up  improving  in  every  gallant  and  knightly  accomplishment, 
adding  to  his  skill  in  arms  the  arts  of  music  and  chess.  In  par- 
ticular, he  devoted  himself  to  the  chase  and  to  all  woodland 
sports,  so  that  he  became  distinguished  above  all  other  chevaliers 
of  the  court  for  his  knowledge  of  all  that  relates  to  hunting.  He 
was  a  young  man  of  great  beauty,  and  is  thus  described  by  Sir 
Calidore  in  the  Faery  Queen  : 

*'  Him  steadfastly  he  marked,  and  saw  to  be 
A  goodly  youth  of  amiable  grace, 
Yet  but  a  slender  slip,  that  scarce  did  see 
Yet  seventeen  years  ;  but  tall  and  faire  of  face, 
That  sure  he  deemed  him  borne  of  noble  race. 
All  in  a  woodman's  jacket  was  he  clad 
Of  Lincoln  greene,  belayed  with  silver  lace  ; 
And  on  his  head  an  hood  with  aglets  sprad/ 
And  by  his  side  his  hunter's  horn  he  hanging  had." 

No  wonder  that  Belinda,  the  king's  daughter,  fell  in  love  with 
him  ;  but  as  he  did  not  return  her  passion,  she,  in  a  sudden  im- 
pulse of  anger,  excited  her  father  against  him,  and  he  was  ban- 
ished the  kingdom.  The  princess  soon  repented  of  her  act,  and 
in  despair  destroyed  herself,  having  first  written  a  most  tender 
letter  to  Tristram,  sending  him  at  the  same  time  a  beautiful  and 
sagacious  dog,  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  desiring  him  to  keep  it 
as  a  memorial  of  her.  Meliadus  was  now  dead,  and  as  his  queen, 
Tristram's  stepmother,  held  the  throne,  Gouvernail  was  afraid  to 
carry  his  pupil  to  his  native  country,  and  took  him  to  Cornwall, 
to  his  uncle  Mark,  who  gave  him  a  kind  reception. 

King  Mark  resided  at  the  castle  of  Tintadel,  already  mentioned 
in  the  history  of  Uther  and  Igerne.  In  this  court  Tristram 
became  distinguished  in  all  the  exercises  incumbent  on  a  knight ; 
nor  was  it  long  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  practically 
employing  his  valor  and  skill.  Moraunt,  a  celebrated  champion, 
brother  to  the  queen  of  Ireland,  arrived  at  the  court,  to  demand 
tribute  of  King  Mark.  The  knights  of  Cornwall  were  held  in 
ill  repute  not  only  by  Arthur,  but  also  his  entire  court.  At  one 
time  King  Mark  sent  a  piece  of  beautiful  cloth  to  Camelot  as  a 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE.  107 

present  to  the  king.  Arthur,  to  show  his  contempt,  ordered 
that  it  be  rent  and  cast  upon  the  hearth. 

•'  Then  Arthur  cried  to  rend  the  cloth,  to  rend 
In  pieces,  and  to  cast  it  upon  the  hearth." 

— Gareth  and  Lynette. 

King  Mark  could  find  no  champion  who  dared  to  encounter  the 
Irish  knight,  till  his  nephew  Tristram,  who  had  not  yet  received 
the  honors  of  knighthood,  craved  to  be  admitted  to  the  order, 
offering  at  the  same  time  to  fight  the  battle  of  Cornwall  against 
the  Irish  champion.  King  Mark  assented  with  reluctance ; 
Tristram  received  the  accolade,  which  conferred  knighthood 
upon  him ;  and  the  place  and  time  were  assigned  for  the 
encounter. 

Without  attempting  to  give  the  details  of  this  famous  combat, 
the  first  and  one  of  the  most  glorious  of  Tristram's  exploits,  we 
shall  only  say  that  the  young  knight,  though  severely  wounded, 
cleft  the  head  of  Moraunt,  leaving  a  portion  of  his  sw;ord  in  the 
wound.  Moraunt,  half  dead  with  his  wound  and  the  disgrace 
of  his  defeat,  hastened  to  hide  himself  in  his  ship,  sailed  away 
with  all  speed  for  Ireland,  and  died  soon  after  arriving  in  his 
own  country. 

The  kingdom  of  Cornwall  was  thus  delivered  from  its  tribute. 
Tristram,  weakened  by  the  loss  of  blood,  fell  senseless.  His 
friends  flew  to  his  assistance.  They  dressed  his  wounds,  which 
in  general  healed  readily ;  but  the  lance  of  Moraunt  was 
poisoned,  and  one  wound  which  it  made  yielded  to  no  remedies, 
but  grew  worse  day  by  day.  The  surgeons  could  do  no  more. 
Tristram  asked  permission  of  his  uncle  to  depart,  and  seek  for 
aid  in  the  kingdom  of  Loegria  (England).  With  his  con- 
sent he  embarked,  and,  after  tossing  for  many  days  on  the 
sea,  was  driven  by  the  winds  to  the  coast  of  Ireland.  He 
landed,  full  of  joy  and  gratitude  that  he  had  escaped  the  peril 
of  the  sea  ;  took  his  rote,'  and  began  to  play.  It  was  a  summer 
evening,  and  the  king  of  Ireland  and  his  daughter,  the  beautiful 
Isoude,  were  at  a  window  which  overlooked  the  sea.  The 
strange  harper  was  sent  for,  and  conveyed  to  the  palace,  where, 
finding  that   he  was  in  Ireland,  whose  champion  he  had  lately 

1  A  musical  instrument. 


I08  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

slain,  he  concealed  his  name,  and  called  himself  Tramtris.  The 
queen  undertook  his  cure,  and  by  a  medicated  bath  gradually 
restored  him  to  health. 

*'  What  knight  is  this  so  weak  and  pale, 
Though  the  locks  are  yet  brown  on  his  noble  head, 
Dropt  on  pillows  in  his  bed  ? 
Tristram  of  Lyoness, 
\  What  lady  is  this  whose  silk  attire 

;  Gleams  so  rich  in  the  light  of  the  fire  ? 

Isoude  of  Ireland. — Matthew  Arnold. 

His  skill  in  music  and  in  games  occasioned  his  being  fre- 
quently called  to  court,  and  he  became  the  instructor  of  the 
Princess  Isoude  in  minstrelsy  and  poetry,  who  profited  so  well 
under  his  care  that  she  soon  had  no  equal  in  the  kingdom, 
except  her  instructor. 

At  this  time  a  tournament  was  held,  at  which  many  knights 
of  the  Round  Table,  and  others,  were  present.  On  the  first 
day  a  Saracen  prince,  named  Palamedes,  obtained  the  advantage 
over  all.  They  brought  him  to  the  court  and  gave  him  a  feast, 
at  which  Tristram,  just  recovering  from  his  wound,  was  present. 
The  fair  Isoude  appeared  on  this  occasion  in  all  her  charms. 
Palamedes  could  not  behold  them  without  emotion,  and  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  his  love.  Tristram  perceived  it,  and  the 
pain  he  felt  from  jealousy  taught  him  how  dear  the  fair  Isoude 
had  already  become  to  him. 

Next  day  the  tournament  was  renewed.  Tristram,  still  feeble 
from  his  wound,  rose  during  the  night,  took  his  arms,  and  con- 
cealed them  in  a  forest  near  the  place  of  the  contest,  and,  after 
it  had  begun,  mingled  with  the  combatants.  He  overthrew  all 
that  encountered  him,  in  particular  Palamedes,  whom  he  brought 
to  the  ground  with  a  stroke  of  his  lance,  and  then  fought  him 
hand  to  hand,  bearing  off  the  prize  of  the  tourney.  But  his  ex- 
ertions caused  his  wound  to  reopen ;  he  bled  fast,  and  in  this 
sad  state,  yet  in  triumph,  they  bore  him  to  the  palace.  The  fair 
Isoude  devoted  herself  to  his  relief  with  an  interest  which  grew 
more  vivid  day  by  day  ;  and  her  skilful  care  soon  restored  him 
to  health. 

It  happened  one  day  that  a  damsel  of  the  court,  entering  the 
closet  where  Tristram's  arms  were  deposited,  perceived  that  a 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO UDE.  1 09 

part  of  the  sword  had  been  broken  off.  It  occurred  to  her  that 
the  missing  portion  was  like  that  which  was  left  in  the  skull  of 
Moraunt,  the  Irish  champion.  She  imparted  her  thought  to  the 
queen,  who  compared  the  fragment  taken  from  her  brother's 
wound  with  the  sword  of  Tristram,  and  was  satisfied  that  it  was 
part  of  the  same,  and  that  the  weapon  of  Tristram  was  that 
which  reft  her  brother's  life.  She  laid  her  griefs  and  resentment 
before  the  king,  who  satisfied  himself  with  his  own  eyes  of  the 
truth  of  her  suspicions. 

**  And  finding  by  the  wound  shape  in  his  side 

This  was  the  knight  by  whom  their  strength  had  died," 

— Swinburne. 

Tristram  was  cited  before  the  whole  court,  and  reproached 
with  having  dared  to  present  himself  before  them  after  having 
slain  their  kinsman.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had  fought  with 
Moraunt  to  settle  the  claim  for  tribute,  and  said  that  it  was  by 
force  of  winds  and  waves  alone  that  he  was  thrown  on  their 
coast.  The  queen  demanded  vengeance  for  the  death  of  her 
brother ;  the  fair  Isoude  trembled  and  grew  pale,  but  a  murmur 
rose  from  all  the  -assembly  that  the  life  of  one  so  handsome  and 
so  brave  should  not  be  taken  for  such  a  cause,  and  generosity 
finally  triumphed  over  resentment  in  the  mind  of  the  king.  Tris- 
tram was  dismissed  in  safety,  but  commanded  to  leave  the  king- 
dom without  delay,  and  never  to  return  thither  under  pain  of 
death.       Tristram  went  back,  with  restored  health,  to  Cornwall. 

King  Mark  made  his  nephew  give  him  a  minute  recital  of  his 
adventures.  Tristram  told  him  all  minutely  ;  but  when  he  came 
to  speak  of  the  fair  Isoude,  he  described  her  charms  with  a 
warmth  and  energy  such  as  none  but  a  lover  could  display.  King 
Mark  was  fascinated  with  the  description,  and,  choosing  a  favor- 
able time,  demanded  a  boon  of  his  nephew,  who  readily  granted 
it.  The  king  made  him  swear  upon  the  holy  reliques  that  he 
would  fulfill  his  commands.  Then  Mark  directed  him  to  go  to 
Ireland  and  obtain  for  him  the  fair  Isoude  to  be  Queen  of  Corn- 
wall. 

Tristram  believed  it  was  certain  death  for  him  to  return  to  Ire- 
land ;  and  how  could  he  act  as  ambassador  for  his  uncle  in  such 
a  cause  ?     Yet,  bound  by  his  oath,  he  hesitated  not  for  an  in- 


I  lO  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIQHTS. 

stant.  He  only  took  the  precaution  to  change  his  armor.  He 
embarked  for  Ireland  ;  but  a  tempest  drove  him  to  the  coast  of 
England,  near  Camelot,  where  King  Arthur  was  holding  his 
court,  attended  by  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  and  many 
others,  the  most  illustrious  in  the  world. 

Tristram  kept  himself  unknown.  He  took  part  in  many  justs  ; 
he  fought  many  combats,  in  which  he  covered  himself  with  glory. 
One  day  he  saw  among  those  recently  arrived  the  King  of  Ire- 
land, father  of  the  fair  Isoude,  This  prinfce,  accused  of  treason 
against  his  liege  sovereign,  Arthur,  came  to  Camelot  to  free  him- 
self from  the  charge.  Blaanor,  one  of  the  most  redoubtable  war- 
riors of  the  Round  Table,  was  his  accuser,  and  Argius,  the  king, 
had  neither  youthful  vigor  nor  strength  to  encounter  him.  He 
must  therefore  seek  a  champion  to  sustain  his  innocence.  But 
the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  were  not  at  liberty  to  fight 
against  one  another  unless  in  a  quarrel  of  their  own.  Argius 
heard  of  the  great  renown  of  the  unknown  knight ;  he  also  was 
witness  of  his  exploits.  He  sought  him,  and  conjured  him  to 
adopt  his  defence,  and  on  his  oath  declared  that  he  was  innocent 
of  the  crime  of  which  he  was  accused.  Tristram  readily  con- 
sented, and  made  himself  known  to  the  king,  who  on  his  part 
promised  to  reward  his  exertions,  if  successful,  with  whatever  gift 
he  might  ask. 

Tristram  fought  with  Blaanor  and  overthrew  him,  and  held  his 
life  in  his  power.  The  fallen  warrior  called  on  him  to  use  his 
right  of  conquest  and  strike  the  fatal  blow.  "God  forbid," 
said  Tristram,  *'  that  I  should  take  the  life  of  so  brave  a  knight !" 
He  raised  him  up  and  restored  him  to  his  friends.  The  judges 
of  the  field  decided  that  the  King  of  Ireland  was  acquitted  of  the 
charge  against  him,  and  they  led  Tristram  in  triumph  to  his  tent. 
King  Argius,  full  of  gratitude,  conjured  Tristram  to  accompany 
him  to  his  kingdom. 

How  happy  a  moment  for  Isoude,  who  knew  that  her  father 
had  promised  his  deliverer  whatever  boon  he  might  ask  !  But 
the  unhappy  Tristram  gazed  on  her  with  despair  at  the  thought 
of  the  cruel  oath  which  bound  him.  His  magnanimous  soul  sub- 
dued the  force  of  his  love.  He  revealed  the  oath  which  he  had 
taken,  and  with  trembling  voice  demanded  the  fair  Isoude  for 
his  uncle. 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO  UDE.  1 1 1 

Argius  consented,  and  soon  all  was  prepared  for  the  departure 
of  Isoude.  Brengwain,  her  favorite  maid  of  honor,  was  to  ac 
company  her.  On  the  day  of  departure  the  queen  took  aside 
this  devoted  attendant,  and  told  her  that  she  had  observed  that 
her  daughter  and  Tristram  were  attached  to  one  another,  and 
that,  to  avert  the  bad  effects  of  this  inclination,  she  had  pro- 
cured from  a  powerful  fairy  a  potent  philter  (love-draught), 
which  she  directed  Brengwain  to  administer  to  Isoude  and  to 
King  Mark  on  the  evening  of  their  marriage. 

•*  They  sailed  between  the  moonfall  and  the  sun, 
Under  the  spent  stars  eastward  ;  but  the  queen 
Out  of  wise  heart  and  subtle  love  had  seen 
Such  things  as  might  be,  dark  as  in  a  glass, 
And  lest  some  doom  of  these  should  come  to  pass 
Bethought  her  with  her  secret  soul  alone 
To  work  some  charm  for  marriage  unison 
And  strike  the  heart  of  Isoude  to  her  lord 
With  a  spell  stronger  than  the  stroke  of  sword. 
Therefore,  with  marvellous  herbs  and  spells  she  wrought 
To  win  the  very  wonder  of  her  thought, 
And  brewed  it  with  her  secret  hands  and  blest 
And  drew  and  gave  out  of  her  secret  breast 
To  one  her  chosen  and  Isoude's  handmaiden, 
Brengwain,  and  bade  her  hide  from  sight  of  men 
This  marvel  covered  in  a  golden  cup." — Swinburne. 

Isoude  and  Tristram  embarked  together.  A  favorable  wind 
filled  the  sails,  and  promised  them  a  fortunate  voyage.  The 
lovers  gazed  upon  one  another,  and  could  not  repress  their  sighs. 
Love  seemed  to  light  up  all  his  fires  on  their  lips,  as  in  their 
hearts.  The  day  was  warm  ;  they  suffered  from  thirst.  Isoude 
first  complained.  Tristram  descried  the  bottle  containing  the 
love-draught,  which  Brengwain  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to 
leave  in  sight.  He  took  it,  gave  some  of  it  to  the  charming 
Isoude,  and  drank  the  remainder  himself. 

•'  Ah,  would  I  were  in  those  green  fields  at  play. 
Not  pent  on  shipboard  this  delicious  day. 
Tristram,  I  pray  thee,  of  thy  courtesy, 
Reach  me  my  golden  phial." — Matthew  Arnold. 

The  dog  Houdain  licked  the  cup.     The  ship  arrived  in   Corn- 
wall, and  Isoude  was  married  to  King  Mark.     The  old  monarch 


112  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

was  delighted  with  his  bride,  and  his  gratitude  to  Tristram  was 
unbounded.  He  loaded  him  with  honors,  and  made  him  cham- 
berlain of  his  palace,  thus  giving  him  access  to  the  queen  at  all 
times. 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  of  the  court  which  followed  the 
royal  marriage,  an  unknown  minstrel  one  day  presented  himself 
bearing  a  harp  of  peculiar  construction.  He  excited  the  curiosity 
of  King  Mark  by  refusing  to  play  upon  it  till  he  should  grant 
him  a  boon.  The  king  having  promised  to  grant  his  request, 
the  minstrel,  who  was  none  other  than  the  Saracen  knight.  Sir 
Palamedes,  the  lover  of  the  fair  Isoude,  sung  to  the  harp  a  lay, 
in  which  he  demanded  Isoude  as  the  promised  gift. 

"  Ah,  then,  false  hunter  and  false  harper,  thou 
Who  brakest  thro'  the  scruple  of  my  bond." 

— The  Last  Tournament. 

King  Mark  could  not  by  the  laws  of  knighthood  withhold  the 
boon.  The  lady  was  mounted  on  her  horse,  and  led  away  by 
her  triumphant  lover.  Tristram,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  absent 
at  the  time,  and  did  not  return  until  their  departure.  When  he 
heard  what  had  taken  place,  he  seized  his  rote,  and  hastened  to 
the  shore,  where  Isoude  and  her  new  master  had  already  em- 
barked. Tristram  played  upon  his  rote,  and  the  sound  reached 
the  ears  of  Isoude,  who  became  so  deeply  affected  that  Sir 
Palamedes  was  induced  to  return  with  her  to  land,  that  they 
might  see  the  unknown  musician.  Tristram  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, seized  the  lady's  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  plunged  with 
her  into  the  forest,  tauntingly  informing  his  rival  that  ''what 
he  had  got  by  the  harp  he  had  lost  by  the  rote. ' '  Palamedes 
pursued,  and  a  combat  was  about  to  commence,  the  result  of 
which  must  have  been  fatal  to  one  or  other  of  these  gallant 
knights;  but  Isoude  stepped  between  them,  and,  addressing 
Palamedes,  said,  ''You  tell  me  that  you  love  me  ;  you  will  not, 
then,  deny  me  the  request  I  am  about  to  make?"  "  Lady,"  he 
replied,  "I  will  perform  your  bidding."  "  Leave,  then,"  said 
she,  "this  contest,  and  repair  to  King  Arthur's  court,  and  salute 
Queen  Guinevere  from  me ;  tell  her  that  there  are  in  the  world 
but  two  ladies,  herself  and  I,  and  two  lovers,  hers  and  mine  ; 
and  come  thou  not  in  future  in  any  place  where  I  am."      Pala- 


TRISTRAM  A  ND  ISO  UDE.  1 1 3 

medes  burst  into  tears.  "Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  ''I  will  obey 
you ;  but  I  beseech  you  that  you  will  not  for  ever  steel  your 
heart  against  me."  "Palamedes,"  she  replied,  ''may  I  never 
taste  of  joy  again  if  I  ever  quit  my  first  love."  Palamedes  then 
went  his  way.  The  lovers  remained  a  week  in  concealment, 
after  which  Tristram  restored  Isoude  to  her  husband,  advising 
him  in  future  to  reward  minstrels  in  some  other  way. 

The  king  showed  much  gratitude  to  Tristram,  but  in  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  he  cherished  bitter  jealousy  of  him.  One 
day  Tristram  and  Isoude  were  alone  together  in  her  private 
chamber.  A  base  and  cowardly  knight  of  the  court,  named 
Andret,  spied  them  through  a  keyhole.  They  set  at  a  table  of 
chess,  but  were  not  attending  to  the  game.  Andret  brought 
the  king,  having  first  raised  his  suspicions,  and  placed  him  so 
as  to  watch  their  motions.  The  king  saw  enough  to  confirm  his 
suspicions,  and  he  burst  into  the  apartment  with  his  swopd 
drawn,  and  had  nearly  slain  Tristram  before  he  was  put  on  his 
guard.  But  Tristram  avoided  the  blow,  drew  his  sword,  and 
drove  before  him  the  cowardly  monarch,  chasing  him  through 
all  the  apartments  of  the  palace,  giving  him  frequent  blows  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword,  while  he  cried  in  vain  to  his  knights  to 
save  him.      But  they  did  not  dare  to  interpose. 

The  legend  of  Tristram  was  a  favorite  one  among  the  more 
ancient  writers.  The  Italian  poets,  Boiardo  and  Ariosto,  have 
founded  upon  it  the  idea  of  the  two  enchanted  fountains,  which 
produced  the  opposite  effects  of  love  and  hatred. 

'♦  Fair  was  that  fountain,  sculptured  all  of  gold, 
With  alabaster  sculptured,  rich  and  rare, 
And  in  its  basin  clear  thou  might' st  behold 
The  flowery  marge  reflected  fresh  and  fair. 
Sage  Merlin  framed  the  font, — so  legends  bear, — 
When  on  fair  Isoude  doated  Tristram  brave, 
That  the  good  errant  knight,  arriving  there, 
Might  quaff  oblivion  in  the  enchanted  wave, 

And  leave  his  luckless  love,  and  'scape  his  timeless  grave. 
But  ne'er  the  warrior's  evil  fate  allowed 
His  steps  that  fountain's  charmed  verge  to  gain, 
Though  restless  roving  on  adventure  proud, 
He  traversed  oft  the  land  and  oft  the  main." — Boiardo. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


Tris'tram  and  I-soude'  (Continued). 

After    this   affair  Tristram    was 
banished    from    the    kingdom,    and 
Isoude  shut  up    in  a  tower,  which 
stood  on  the  bank  of  a  river.     Tris- 
tram  could    not    resolve    to   depart 
without  some  further  communication 
with  his  beloved ;  so  he  concealed 
himself  in  the  forest,  till  at  last  he 
contrived  to  attract  her  attention, 
by  means  of  twigs  which  he  curi- 
ously  peeled,   and    sent    down    the 
stream  under  her  window.    By  this 
means  many  secret  interviews  were 
obtained.      Tristram    dwelt  in    the 
forest,  sustaining  himself  by  game, 
which  the  dog  Houdain  ran  down 
for'him  ;  for  this  faithful  animal  was 
unequalled  in  the  chase,  and  knew  so 
well  his  master's  wish  for  conceal- 
ment, that,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  game, 
he  never  barked.  At  length  Tristram 
departed,    but    left    Houdain    with 
Isoude,  as  a  remembrancer  of  him. 
Sir  Tristram  wandered  through  various  countries,  achieving 
the  most  perilous  enterprises,  and  covering  himself  with  glory, 
yet  unhappy  at   the   separation   from   his  beloved   Isoude.     At 
length   King   Mark's   territory  was   invaded  by  a  neighboring 
chieftain,  and  he  was  forced  to  summon  his  nephew  to  his  aid. 
Tristram  obeyed  the  call,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  uncle's 
vassals,  and  drove  the  enemy  out  of  the  country.      Mark  was 
full  of  gratitude,  and  Tristram,   restored  to  favor  and  to  the 
(114) 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO  UDE.  1 1  5 

society  of  his  beloved  Isoude,  seemed  at  the  summit  of  happi- 
ness.    But  a  sad  reverse  was  at  hand.  ^ 

Tristram  had  brought  with  him  a  friend  named  Pheredin,  son 
of  the  king  of  Brittany.  This  young  knight  saw  Queen  Isoude, 
and  could  not  resist  her  charms.  Knowing  the  love  of  his 
friend  for  the  queen,  and  that  that  love  was  returned,  Pheredin 
concealed  his  own,  until  his  health  failed,  and  he  feared  he  was 
drawing  near  his  end.  He  then  wrote  to  the  beautiful  queen 
that  he  was  dying  for  love  of  her. 

The  gentle  Isoude,  in  a  moment  of  pity  for  the  friend  of  Tris- 
tram, returned  him  an  answer  so  kind  and  compassionate  that  it 
restored  him  to  life.  A  few  days  afterwards  Tristram  found  this 
letter.  The  most  terrible  jealousy  took  possession  of  his  soul ; 
he  would  have  slain  Pheredin,  who  with  difficulty  made  his 
escape.  Then  Tristram  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  to  the 
forest,  where  for  ten  days  he  took  no  rest  nor  food.  At  length 
he  was  found  by  a  damsel  lying  almost  dead  by  the  brink  of  a 
fountain.  She  recognized  him,  and  tried  in  vain  to  rouse  his 
attention.  At  last,  recollecting  his  love  for  music,  she  went  and 
got  her  harp,  and  played  thereon.  Tristram  was  roused  from 
his  reverie  ;  tears  flowed  ;  he  breathed  more  freely  ;  he  took  the 
harp  from  the  maiden,  and  sung  this  lay,  with  a  voice  broken 
with  sobs : 

**  Sweet  I  sang  in  former  days, 

Kind  love  perfected  my  lays  : 

Now  my  art  alone  displays 

The  woe  that  on  my  being  preys. 

"  Charming  love,  delicious  power. 
Worshipped  from  my  earliest  hour, 
Thou  who  life  on  all  dost  shower, 
Love  !  my  life  thou  dost  devour. 

"In  death's  hour  I  beg  of  thee, 
Isoude,  dearest  enemy, 
Thou  who  erst  couldst  kinder  be, 
When  I'm  gone,  forget  not  me. 

"On  my  gravestone  passers-by 
Oft  will  read,  as  low  I  lie, 
*  Never  wight  in  love  could  vie 
With  Tristram,  yet  she  let  him  die.'  " 


1 1 6  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

Tristram,  having  finished  his  lay,  wrote  it  off  and  gave  it  to 
the  damsel,  conjuring  her  to  present  it  to  the  queen. 

Meanwhile  Queen  Isoude  was  inconsolable  at  the  absence  of 
Tristram.  She  discovered  that  it  was  caused  by  the  fatal  letter 
which  she  had  written  to  Pheredin.  Innocent,  but  in  despair 
at  the  sad  effects  of  her  letter,  she  wrote  another  to  Pheredin, 
charging  him  never  to  see  her  again.  The  unhappy  lover  obeyed  ^ 
this  cruel  decree.  He  plunged  into  the  forest,  and  died  of  grief 
in  a  hermit's  cell. 

Isoude  passed  her  days  in  lamenting  the  absence  and  unknown 
fate  of  Tristram.  One  day  her  jealous  husband,  having  entered 
her  chamber  unperceived,  overheard  her  singing  the  following 

lay: 

*'  My  voice  to  piteous  wail  is  bent, 
My  harp  to  notes  of  languishment  j 
Ah,  love  !  delightsome  days  be  meant 
For  happier  wights,  with  hearts  content. 

"  Ah,  Tristram  !   far  away  from  me, 
Art  thou  from  restless  anguish  free? 
Ah  !  couldst  thou  so  one  moment  be, 
From  her  who  so  much  loveth  thee  ?'* 

The  king,  hearing  these  words,  burst  forth  in  a  rage  ;  but 
Isoude  was  too  wretched  to  fear  his  violence.  "You  have 
heard  me,"  she  said  ;  ''I  confess  it  all.  I  love  Tristram,  and 
always  shall  love  him.  Without  doubt  he  is  dead,  and  died  for 
me.  I  no  longer  wish  to  live.  The  blow  that  shall  finish  my 
misery  will  be  most  welcome." 

The  king  was  moved  at  the  distress  of  the  fair  Isoude,  and 
perhaps  the  idea  of  Tristram's  death  tended  to  allay  his  wrath. 
He  left  the  queen  in  charge  of  her  women,  commanding  them 
to  take  especial  care  lest  her  despair  should  lead  her  to  do  harm 
to  herself. 

Tristram  meanwhile,  distracted  as  he  was,  rendered  a  most 
important  service  to  the  shepherds  by  slaying  a  gigantic  robber 
named  Taullas,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  plundering  their  flocks 
and  rifling  their  cottages.  The  shepherds,  in  their  gratitude  to 
Tristram,  bore  him  in  triumph  to  King  Mark  to  have  him  bestow 
on  him  a  suitable  reward.  No  wonder  Mark  failed  to  recognize 
in  the  half-clad  wild  man  before  him  his  nephew  Tristram  ;  but 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO  UDE.  1 1 7 

grateful  for  the  service  the  unknown  had  rendered,  he  ordered 
him  to  be  well  taken  care  of,  and  gave  him  in  charge  to  the 
queen  and  her  women. 

*'  For  through  the  haggard  air. 
The  stained  arms,  the  matted  hair 
Of  that  stranger  knight  ill-starred 
There  gleamed  something  which  recalled 
The  Tristram  who  in  better  days 
Was  Launcelot's  guest  at  Joyous  Gard." 

— Matthew  Arnold. 

Under  such  care  Tristram  rapidly  recovered  his  serenity  and  his 
health,  so  that  the  romancer  tells  us  he  became  handsomer  than 
ever.  King  Mark's  jealousy  revived  with  Tristram's  health  and 
good  looks,  and,  in  spite  of  his  debt  of  gratitude  so  lately  in- 
creased, he  again  banished  him  from  the  court. 

Sir  Tristram  left  Cornwall,  and  proceeded  into  the  land  of 
Loegria  (England)  in  quest  of  adventures.  One  day  he  entered 
a  wide  forest.  The  sound  of  a  little  bell  showed  him  that  some 
inhabitant  was  near.  He  followed  the  sound,  and  found  a  her- 
mit, who  informed  him  that  he  was  in  the  forest  of  Arnantes, 
belonging  to  the  fairy  Vivian,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  who, 
smitten  with  love  for  King  Arthur,  had  found  means  to  entice 
him  to  this  forest,  where  by  enchantments  she  held  him  a  pris- 
oner, having  deprived  him  of  all  memory  of  who  and  what  he 
was.  The  hermit  informed  him  that  all  the  knights  of  the 
Round  Table  were  out  in  search  of  the  king,  and  that  he  (Tris- 
tram) was  now  in  the  scene  of  the  most  grand  and  important 
adventures. 

This  was  enough  to  animate  Tristram  in  the  search.  He  had 
not  wandered  far  before  he  encountered  a  knight  of  Arthur's 
court,  who  proved  to  be  Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  who  demanded 
of  him  whence  he  came.  Tristram  answering,  '*  From  Corn- 
wall," Sir  Kay  could  not  let  slip  the  opportunity  for  a  joke  at 
the  expense  of  the  Cornish  knight.  Tristram  chose  to  leave 
him  in  his  error,  and  even  confirmed  him  in  it ;  for,  meeting 
some  other  knights,  Tristram  declined  to  just  with  them. 
They  spent  the  night  together  at  an  abbey,  where  Tristram  sub- 
mitted patiently  to  all  their  jokes.  The  Seneschal  gave  the  word 
to  his  companions,  that  they  should  set  out  early  next  day,  and 


1 18  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

intercept  the  Cornish  knight  on  his  way,  and  enjoy  the  amuse- 
ment of  seeing  his  fright  when  they  should  insist  on  running  a 
tilt  with  him.  Tristram  next  morning  found  himself  alone  ;  he 
put  on  his  armor,  and  set  out  to  continue  his  quest.  He  soon 
saw  before  him  the  Seneschal  and  the  three  knights,  who  barred 
the  way,  and  insisted  on  a  just.  Tristram  excused  himself  a 
long  time ;  at  last  he  reluctantly  took  his  stand.  He  encoun- 
tered them,  one  after  the  other,  and  overthrew  them  all  four, 
man  and  horse,  and  then  rode  off,  bidding  them  not  to  forget 
their  friend,  the  knight  of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  met  a  damsel,  who  cried 
out,  "Ah,  my  lord  !  hasten  forward,  and  prevent  a  horrid 
treason  !"  Tristram  flew  to  her  assistance,  and  soon  reached  a 
spot  where  he  beheld  a  knight,  whom  three  others  had  borne  to 
the  ground,  and  were  unlacing  his  helmet  in  order  to  cut  off  his 
head. 

Tristram  flew  to  the  rescue,  and  slew  with  one  stroke  of  his 
lance  one  of  the  assailants.  The  knight,  recovering  his  feet, 
sacrificed  another  to  his  vengeance,  and  the  third  made  his 
escape.  The  rescued  knight  then  raised  the  visor  of  his  helmet, 
and  a  long  white  beard  fell  down  upon  his  breast.  The  majesty 
and  venerable  air  of  this  knight  made  Tristram  suspect  that  it 
was  none  other  than  Arthur  himself,  and  the  prince  confirmed 
his  conjecture.  Tristram  would  have  knelt  before  him,  but 
Arthur  received  him  in  his  arms,  and  inquired  his  name  and 
country  ;  but  Tristram  declined  to  disclose  them,  on  the  plea  that 
he  was  now  on  a  quest  requiring  secrecy.  At  this  moment  the 
damsel  who  had  brought  Tristram  to  the  rescue  darted  forward, 
and,  seizing  the  king's  hand,  drew  from  his  finger  a  ring,  the 
gift  of  the  fairy,  and  by  that  act  dissolved  the  enchantment. 
Arthur,  having  recovered  his  reason  and  his  memory,  offered  to 
Tristram  to  attach  him  to  his  court,  and  to  confer  honors  and 
dignities  upon  him  ;  but  Tristram  declined  all,  and  only  con- 
sented to  accompany  him  till  he  should  see  him  safe  in  the 
hands  of  his  knights.  Soon  after,  Hector  de  Marys  rode  up, 
and  saluted  the  king,  who  on  his  part  introduced  him  to  Tristram 
as  one  of  the  bravest  of  his  knights.  Tristram  took  leave  of 
the  king  and  his  faithful  follower,  and  continued  his  quest. 

We  cannot  follow  Tristram  through  all  the  adventures  which 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO  UDE.  1 1 g 

filled  this  epoch  of  his  history.  Suffice  it  to  say,  he  fulfilled  on 
all  occasions  the  duty  of  a  true  knight,  rescuing  the  oppressed, 
redressing  wrongs,  abolishing  evil  customs,  and  suppressing  in- 
justice, thus  by  constant  action  endeavoring  to  lighten  the  pains 
of  absence  from  her  he  loved.  In  the  meantime  Isoude,  sepa- 
rated from  her  dear  Tristram,  passed  her  days  in  languor  and 
regret.  At  length  she  could  no  longer  resist  the  desire  to  hear 
some  news  of  her  lover.  She  wrote  a  letter,  and  sent  it  by  one 
of  her  damsels,  niece  of  her  faithful  Brengwain.  One  day  Tris- 
tram, weary  with  his  exertions,  had  dismounted  and  laid  himself 
down  by  the  side  of  a  fountain  and  fallen  asleep.  The  damsel 
of  Queen  Isoude  arrived  at  the  same  fountain,  and  recognized 
Passebreul,  the  horse  of  Tristram,  and  presently  perceived  his 
master,  asleep.  He  was  thin  and  pale,  showing  evident  marks 
of  the  pain  he  suffered  in  separation  from  his  beloved.  She 
awaked  him,  and  gave  him  the  letter  which  she  bore,  and  Tris- 
tram enjoyed  the  pleasure,  so  sweet  to  a  lover,  of  hearing  from 
and  talking  about  the  object  of  his  affections.  He  prayed  the 
damsel  to  postpone  her  return  until  after  the  magnificent  tourna- 
ment which  Arthur  had  proclaimed  should  have  taken  place,  and 
conducted  her  to  the  castle  of  Persides,  a  brave  and  loyal 
knight,  who  received  her  with  great  consideration. 

Tristram  conducted  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  to  the  tour- 
nament, and  had  her  placed  in  the  balcony  among  the  ladies  of 
the  queen. 

*'  He  glanced  and  saw  the  stately  gallerie^, 
Dame,  damsel,  each  through  worship  of  their  Queea 
White-robed  in  honor  of  the  stainless  child, 
And  some  with  scatter' d  jewels,  like  a  bank 
Of  maiden  snow  mingled  with  sparks  of  fire. 
He  looked  but  once,  and  veiled  his  eyes  again." 

— The  Last  Tournament. 

He  then  joined  the  tourney.  Nothing  could  exceed  his  strength 
and  valor.  Launcelot  admired  him,  and  by  a  secret  presenti- 
ment declined  to  dispute  the  honor  of  the  day  with  a  knight  so 
gallant  and  so  skilful.  Arthur  descended  from  the  balcony  to 
greet  the  conqueror ;  but  the  modest  and  devoted  Tristram,  con- 
tent with  having  borne  off  the  prize  in  the  sight  of  the  mes- 
senger of  Isoude,  made  his  escape  with  her,  and  disappeared. 


I20  KINQ  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

The  next  day  the  tourney  recommenced.  Tristram  assumed 
different  armor,  that  he  might  not  be  known  ;  but  he  was  soon 
detected  by  the  terrible  blows  that  he  gave.  Arthur  and  Guine- 
vere had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  same  knight  who  had  borne 
off  the  prize  of  the  day  before.  Arthur's  gallant  spirit  was 
roused.  After  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  Sir  Gawain,  he  was 
accounted  the  best  knight  of  the  Round  Table.  He  went  pri- 
vately and  armed  himself,  and  came  into  the  tourney  in  undis- 
tinguished armor.  He  ran  a  just  with  Tristram,  whom  he  shook 
in  his  seat ;  but  Tristram,  who  did  not  know  him,  threw  him  out 
of  the  saddle.  Arthur  recovered  himself,  and,  content  with 
having  made  proof  of  the  stranger  knight,  bade  Launcelot  finish 
the  adventure,  and  vindicate  the  honor  of  the  Round  Table. 
Sir  Launcelot,  at  the  bidding  of  the  monarch,  assailed  Tristram, 
whose  lance  was  already  broken  in  former  encounters. 

"Sir  Tristram  of  the  Woods — 
Whom  Launcelot  knew,  had  held  sometime  with  pain 
His  own  against  him,  and  now  yearned  to  shake 
The  burthen  off  his  heart  in  one  full  shock 
With  Tristram  even  to  death  :  his  strong  hands  gript 
And  dinted  the  gilt  dragons  right  and  left. 
Until  he  groaned  for  wrath." — The  Last  Tournament. 

But  the  law  of  this  sort  of  combat  was,  that  the  knight,  after 
having  broken  his  lance,  must  fight  with  his  sword,  and  must 
not  refuse  to  meet  with  his  shield  the  lance  of  his  antagonist. 
Tristram  met  Launcelot' s  charge  upon  his  shield,  which  that  ter- 
rible lance  could  not  fail  to  pierce.  It  inflicted  a  wound  upon 
Tristram's  side,  and,  breaking,  left  the  iron  in  the  wound.  But 
Tristram  also  with  his  sword  smote  so  vigorously  on  Launcelot's 
casque  that  he  cleft  it,  and  wounded  his  head.  The  wound  was 
not  deep,  but  the  blood  flowed  into  his  eyes  and  blinded  him 
for  a  moment,  and  Tristram,  who  thought  himself  mortally 
wounded,  retired  from  the  field.  Launcelot  declared  to  the  king 
that  he  had  never  received  such  a  blow  in  his  life  before. 

Tristram  hastened  to  Gouvernail,  his  squire,  who  drew  forth 
the  iron,  bound  up  the  wound,  and  gave  him  immediate  ease. 
Tristram,  after  the  tournament,  kept  retired  in  his  ^ent,  but  Ar- 
thur, with  the  consent  of  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
decreed  him  the  honors  of  the  second  day.    But  it  was  no  longer 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISO  UDE.  1 2 1 

a  secret  that  the  victor  of  the  two  days  was  the  same  individual, 
and  Gouvernail,  being  questioned,  confirmed  the  suspicions  of 
Launcelot  and  Arthur,  that  it  was  no  other  than  Sir  Tristram  of 
Leonais,  the  nephew  of  the  king  of  Cornwall. 

King  Arthur,  who  desired  to  reward  his  distinguished  valor, 
and  knew  that  his  uncle  Mark  had  ungratefully  banished  him, 
would  have  eagerly  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  attach 
Tristram  to  his  court — ^all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  de- 
claring with  acclamation  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  a 
more  worthy  companion. 

A  minstrel  was  present  and  sang  the  glories  of  knighthood : 

**  Hushed  were  the  throng,  both  limb  and  tongue, 
And  harpers  for  envy  pale, 
And  armed  lords  leaned  on  their  swords 
And  hearkened  to  the  tale. 

"  He  sang  King  Arthur's  Table  Round, 
The  Warrior  of  the  Lake, 
How  courteous  Gawain  met  the  wound. 
And  bled  for  ladies'  sake. 

**  But  chief  in  gentle  Tristram's  praise 
The- notes  melodious  swell, 
Was  none  excelled  in  Arthur's  days. 
The  knight  of  Lionelle."  —Scott. 

But  Tristram  had  already  departed  in  search  of  adventures,  and 
the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  returned  to  her  mistress. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sir  Tris'tram  and  Sir  Laun'ce-lot — Sir  Tris'tram  as  a 
Sportsman. 

Sir  Tris'tram  and   Sir  Laun'ce-lot. 

Sir  Tristram  rode  through  a  forest,  and  saw  ten  men  fight- 
ing, and  one  man  did  battle  against  nine.  So  he  rode  to  the 
knights  and  cried  to  them,  bidding  them  cease  their  battle,  for 
they  did  themselves  great  shame,  so  many  knights  to  fight  against 
one.  Then  answered  the  master  of  the  knights  (his  name 
was  Sir  Breuse  sans  Pitie,  who  was  at  that  time  the  most  villan- 
ous  knight  living)  :  ''Sir  knight,  what  have  ye  to  do  to  meddle 
with  us  ?  If  ye  be  wise,  depart  on  your  way  as  you  came,  for 
this  knight  shall  not  escape  us."  "  That  were  pity,"  said  Sir 
Tristram,  ''that  so  good  a  knight  should  be  slain  so  cowardly; 
therefore  I  warn  you  I  will  succor  him  with  all  my  puissance." 

Then  Sir  Tristram  alighted  off  his  horse,  because  they  were 
on  foot,  that  they  should  not  slay  his  horse.  And  he  smote  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  so  vigorously,  that  well-nigh  at 
every  stroke  he  struck  down  a  knight. 

"  Their  spears  are  down,  their  steeds  are  bathed  in  foam, 
Up,  Tristram  up,  on  with  the  fight !" — Matthew  Arnold. 

At  last  they  fled,  with  Breuse  sans  Pitie,  into  the  tower,  and 
shut  Sir  Tristram  without  the  gate.  Then  Sir  Tristram  returned 
back  to  the  rescued  knight,  and  found  him  sitting  under  a  tree, 
sore  wounded.  "  Fair  knight,"  said  he,  "how  is  it  with  you?" 
"Sir  knight,"  said  Palamedes,  for  he  it  was,  "I  thank  you  of 
your  great  goodness,  for  ye  have  rescued  me  from  death." 
"What  is  your  name?"  said  Sir  Tristram.  He  said,  "My 
name  is  Sir   Palamedes."      "Say  ye  so,"  said  Sir  Tristram; 

(I22\ 


Sm  TRISTRAM  AND  SIR  LAUNCELOT.  123 

"  now  know  that  thou  art  the  man  in  the  world  that  I  most  hate  ; 
therefore  make  thee  ready,  for  I  will  do  battle  with  thee." 
**What  is  your  name?"  said  Sir  Palamedes.  "My  name  is 
Sir  Tristram,  your  mortal  enemy."  ''It  may  be  so,"  said  Sir 
Palamedes;  ''but  you  have  done  overmuch  for  me  this  day, 
that  I  should  fight  with  you.  Moreover,  it  will  be  no  honor  for 
you  to  have  to  do  with  me,  for  you  are  fresh  and  I  am  wounded. 
Therefore,  if  you  will  needs  have  to  do  with  .me,  assign  me  a 
day,  and  I  shall  meet  you  without  fail."  "  You  say  well,"  said 
Sir  Tristram  ;  "  now  I  assign  you  to  meet  me  in  the  meadow  by 
the  river  of  Camelot,  where  Merlin  set  the  monument."  So 
they  were  agreed.  Then  they  departed,  and  took  their  ways 
diverse.  Sir  Tristram  passed  through  a  great  forest  into  a  plain, 
till  he  came  to  a  priory,  and  there  he  reposed  him  with  a  good 
man  six  days. 

Then  departed  Sir  Tristram,  and  rode  straight  into  Camelot 
to  the  monument  of  Merlin,  and  there  he  looked  about  him  for 
Sir  Palamedes.  And  he  perceived  a  seemly  knight,  who  came 
riding  against  him  all  in  white,  with  a  covered  shield.  When 
he  came  nigh.  Sir  Tristram  said  aloud,  "Welcome,  sir  knight, 
and  well  and  truly  have  you  kept  your  promise."  Then  they 
made  ready  their  shields  and  spears,  and  came  together  with  all 
the  might  of  their  horses,  so  fiercely,  that  both  the  horses  and 
the  knights  fell  to  the  earth.  And  as  soon  as  they  might,  they 
quitted  their  horses,  and  struck  together  with  bright  swords  as 
men  of  might,  and  each  wounded  the  other  wonderfully  sore,  so 
that  the  blood  ran  out  upon  the  grass.  Thus  they  fought  for  the 
space  of  four  hours,  and  never  one  would  speak  to  the  other  one 
word.  Then  at  last  spake  the  white  knight,  and  said,  "Sir, 
thou  fightest  wonderful  well,  as  ever  I  saw  knight ;  therefore,  if 
it  please  you,  tell  me  your  name."  "Why  dost  thou  ask  my 
name?"  said  Sir  Tristram;  "art  thou  not  Sir  Palamedes?" 
"  No,  fair  knight,"  said  he,  "I  am  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake." 
"Alas!"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "what  have  I  done?  for  you  are 
the  man  of  the  world  that  I  love  best."  "Fair  knight,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "tell  me  your  name."  "Truly,"  said  he,  "  my 
name  is  Sir  Tristram  de  Lionesse."  "Alas!  alas!"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "  what  adventure  has  befallen  me  !"  And  therewith 
Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down,  and  yielded  him   up  his  sword; 


1 2  4  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

and  Sir  Tristram  kneeled  down,  and  yielded  him  up  his  sword  ; 
and  so  either  gave  other  the  degree.  And  then  they  both  went 
to  the  stone,  and  set  them  down  upon  it,  and  took  off  their 
helms,  and  each  kissed  the  other  a  hundred  times.  And  then 
anon  they  rode  toward  Camelot,  and  on  the  way  they  met  with 
Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Gaheris,  that  had  made  promise  to  Arthur 
never  to  come  again  to  the  court  till  they  had  brought  Sir  Tris- 
tram with  them.  . 

**  Return  again,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  ''  for  your  quest  is  done  ; 
for  I  have  met  with  Sir  Tristram.  Lo,  here  he  is  in  his  own  per- 
son. "  Then  was  Sir  Gawain  glad,  and  said  to  Sir  Tristram,  "  Ye 
are  welcome."  With  this  came  King  Arthur,  and  when  he  wist 
there  was  Sir  Tristram,  he  ran  unto  him,  and  shook  him  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  "  Sir  Tristram  ye  are  as  welcome  as  any  knight 
that  ever  came  to  this  court."  Then  Sir  Tristram  told  the  king 
how  he  came  thither  for  to  have  had  to  do  with  Sir  Palamedes, 
and  how  he  had  rescued  him  from  Sir  Breuse  sans  Pitie  and  the 
nine  knights.  Then  King  Arthur  took  Sir  Tristram  by  the  hand, 
and  went  to  the  Table  Round,  and  Queen  Guinevere  came,  and 
many  ladies  with  her,  and  all  the  ladies  said  with  one  voice, 
''Welcome,  Sir  Tristram."  ''Welcome,"  said  the  knights. 
"  Welcome,"  said  Arthur,  "  for  one  of  the  best  of  knights,  and 
the  gentlest  of  the  world,  and  the  man  of  most  worship  ;  for  of 
all  manner  of  hunting  thou  bearest  the  prize,  and  of  all  measures 
of  blowing  thou  art  the  beginning,  and  of  all  the  terms  of  hunt- 
ing and  hawking  ye  are  the  inventor,  and  of  all  instruments  of 
music  ye  are  the  best  skilled ;  therefore,  gentle  knight, ' '  said 
Arthur,  "  ye  are  welcome  to  this  court."  And  then  King  Arthur 
made  Sir  Tristram  knight  of  the  Table  Round  with  great  nobley 
and  feasting  as  can  be  thought. 

*'  Then  Tristram,  laughing,  caught  the  harp  and  sang  ; 
*  Ay,  ay,  O  ay — the  winds  that  bend  the  brier ! 
A  star  in  heaven,  a  star  within  the  mere  ! 
Ay,  ay,  O  ay — a  star  was  my  desire  ; 
And  one  was  far  apart,  and  one  was  near : 
Ay,  ay,  O  ay — the  winds  that  bow  the  grass  ! 
And  one  was  water  and  one  star  was  fire, 
And  one  will  ever  shine  and  one  will  pass — 
Ay,  ay,  O  ay — the  winds  that  move  the  mere.'  " 

— The  Last  Tournament. 


SIR  TRISTRAM  AS  A  SPORTSMAN.  125 

Sir  Tristram  as  a  Sportsman. 

Tristram  is  often  alluded  to  by  the  romancers  as  authority  on 
all  matters  that  pertain  to  the  chase.  His  life  was  calculated 
to  develop  this  characteristic  more  than  that  of  any  other  knight. 

**  All  which  my  days  I  have  not  lewdly  spent, 
Nor  spilt  the  blossom  of  my  tender  years 

In  idlesse  ;  but,  as  was  convenient,  ' 

Have  trained  been  with  many  noble  feres 
In  gentle  thewes,  and  such  like  seemly  leers  ;i 
'  Mongst  which  my  most  delight  hath  always  been 
To  hunt  the  salvage  chace,  amongst  my  peers, 
Of  all  that  rangeth  in  the  forest  green, 
Of  which  none  is  to  me  unknown  that  yet  was  seen. 

**  Ne  is  there  hawk  which  mantleth  on  her  perch, 
Whether  high  towering  or  accosting  low, 
But  I  the  measure  of  her  flight  do  search, 
And  all  her  prey,  and  all  her  diet  know. 
Such  be  our  joys,  which  in  these  forests  grow." 

—Faery  Queene. 

1  FereSy  companions  ;  ihewes^  labors  j  leerSy  learning. 


JT-. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Sir  Tris'tram  and  the  Round  Table — Breuse  the 
Pitiless. 

Sir  Tris'tram  and  the  Round  Table. 

The  famous  enchanter,  Merlin,  had  exerted  all  his  skill  in  fab- 
ricating the  Round  Table.  Of  the  seats  which  surrounded  it  he 
had  constructed  thirteen,  in  memory  of  the  thirteen  Apostles. 
Twelve  of  these  seats  only  could  be  occupied,  and  they  only  by 
knights  of  the  highest  fame ;  the  thirteenth  represented  the  seat 
of  the  traitor  Judas.  It  remained  always  empty.  It  was  called 
the  perilous  seat,  ever  since  a  rash  and  haughty  Saracen  knight 
had  dared  to  place  himself  in  it,  when  the  earth  opened  and 
swallowed  him  up. 

**  In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  vacant  chair. 
Fashion' d  by  Merlin  ere  he  past  away, 
And  carven  with  strange  figures  ;  and  in  and  out 
,  The  figures,  like  a  serpent,  ran  a  scroll 

Of  letters  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  read. 
And  Merlin  call'd  it  *  The  Siege  perilous,' 
Perilous  for  good  and  ill  ;  '  for  there,'  he  said, 
*No  man  could  sit  but  he  should  lose  himself.'  " 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

A  magic  power  wrote  upon  each  seat  the  name  of  the  knight 
who  was  entitled  to  sit  in  it.  No  one  could  succeed  to  a  vacant 
seat  unless  he  surpassed  in  valor  and  glorious  deeds  the  knight 

(126) 


STR  TRISTRAM  AND  THE  ROUND  TABLE.  12/ 

who  had  occupied  it  before  him  ;  without  this  quah'fication  he 
would  be  violently  repelled  by  a  hidden  force.  Thus  proof  was 
made  of  all  those  who  presented  themselves  to  replace  any  com- 
panions of  the  order  who  had  fallen. 

One  of  the  ])rincipal  seats,  that  of  Moraunt  of  Ireland,  had 
been  vacant  ten  years,  and  his  name  still  remained  over  it  ever 
since  the  time  when  that  distinguished  champion  fell  beneath  the 
sword  of  Sir  Tristram.  Arthur  now  took  Tristram  by  the  hand 
and  led  him  to  that  seat.  Immediately  the  most  melodious 
sounds  were  heard,  and  exquisite  perfumes  filled  the  place ;  the 
name  of  Moraunt  disappeared,  and  that  of  Tristram  blazed  forth 
in  light  !  The  rare  modesty  of  Tristram  had  now  to  be  subjected 
to  a  severe  task  ;  for  the  clerks  charged  with  the  duty  of  preserv- 
ing the  annals  of  the  Round  Table  attended,  and  he  was  required 
by  the  law  of  his  order  to  declare  what  feats  of  arms  he  had  ac- 
complished to  entitle  him  to  take  that  seat.  This  ceremony  being 
ended,  Tristram  received  the  congratulations  of  all  his  compan- 
ions. Sir  Launcelot  and  Guinevere  took  the  occasion  to  speak 
to  him  of  the  fair  Isoude,  and  to  express  their  wish  that  some 
happy  chance  might  bring  her  to  the  kingdom  of  Loegria. 

While  Tristram  was  thus  honored  and  caressed  at  the  court  of 
King  Arthur,  the  most  gloomy  and  malignant  jealously  harassed 
the  soul  of  Mark.  He  could  not  look  upon  Isoude  without  re- 
membering that  she  loved  Tristram,  and  the  good  fortune  of  his 
nephew  goaded  him  to  thoughts  of  vengeance.  He  at  last  re- 
solved to  go  disguised  into  the  kingdom  of  Loegria,  attack  Tris- 
tram by  stealth,  and  put  him  to  death.  He  took  with  him  two 
knights,  brought  up  in  his  court,  who  he  thought  were  devoted 
to  him  ;  and,  not  willing  to  leave  Isoude  behind,  named  two  of 
her  maidens  to  attend  her,  together  with  her  faithful  Brengwain, 
and  made  them  accompany  him. 

Having  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camelot,  Mark  im- 
parted his  plan  to  his  two  knights,  but  they  rejected  it  with  hor- 
ror ;  nay,  more,  they  declared  that  they  would  no  longer  remain 
in  his  service ;  and  left  him,  giving  him  reason  to  suppose  that 
they  should  repair  to  the  court  to  accuse  him  before  Arthur.  It 
was  necessary  for  Mark  to  meet  and  rebut  their  accusation ;  so, 
leaving  Isoude  in  an  abbey,  he  pursued  his  way  alone  to  Cam- 
elot. 


128  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Mark  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  encountered  a  party  o/ 
knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and  would  have  avoided  them,  for  he 
knew  their  habit  of  challenging  to  a  just  every  stranger  knight 
whom  they  met.  But  it  was  too  late.  They  had  seen  his  armor, 
and  recognized  him  as  a  Cornish  knight,  and  at  once  resolved  to 
have  some  sport  with  him.  It  happened  they  had  w^ith  them 
Daguenet,  King  Arthur's  fool,  who,  though  deformed  and  weak 
of  body,  was  not  wanting  in  courage : 

"  And  little  Dagonet  on  the  morrow  mom. 
High  over  all  the  yellowing  Autumn  tide, 
Danced  like  a  wither'd  leaf  before  the  Hall. 
Then  Tristram,  saying,  ♦  Why  skip  ye  so,  Sir  Fool?' 
Wheel' d  round  on  either  heel,  Dagonet  replied, 
*  Belike  for  lack  of  wiser  company  ; 
Or  being  fool,  and  seeing  too  much  wit 
Makes  the  world  rotten,  why,  belike  I  skip 
To  know  myself  the  wisest  knight  of  all.'  " 

— The  Last  Tournament. 

The  knights,  as  Mark  approached,  laid  their  plan  that  Daguenet 
should  personate  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  challenge  the 
Cornish  knight.  They  equipped  him  in  armor  belonging  to  one 
of  their  number  who  was  ill,  and  sent  him  forward  to  the  cross- 
road to  defy  the  strange  knight.  Mark,  who  saw  that  his  antag- 
onist was  by  no  means  formidable  in  appearance,  was  not  disin- 
clined to  the  combat ;  but  when  the  dwarf  rode  towards  him, 
calling  out  that  he  was  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  his  fears  pre- 
vailed, he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  rode  away  at  full  speed, 
pursued  by  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  party. 

Meanwhile  Isoude,  remaining  at  the  abbey  with  her  faithful 
Brengwain,  found  her  only  amusement  in  walking  occasionally 
in  a  forest  adjoining  the  abbey.  There,  on  the  brink  of  a  foun-i 
tain  girdled  with  trees,  she  thought  of  her  love,  and  sometimes', 
joined  her  voice  and  her  harp  in  lays  reviving  the  memory  of  its 
pains  or  pleasures.  One  day  the  caitiff  knight,  Breuse  the  Piti- 
less, heard  her  voice,  concealed  himself,  and  drew  near.  She 
sang : 

•'  Sweet  silence,  shadowy  bower,  and  verdant  lair, 

Ye  court  my  troubled  spirit  to  repose, 
Whilst  I,  such  dear  remembrance  rises  there, 

Awaken  every  echo  with  my  woes. 


B RE  USE  THE  PITILESS.  1 29 

**  Within  these  woods,  by  nature's  hand  arrayed, 

A  fountain  springs,  and  feeds  a  thousand  flowers  ; 
Ah  !  how  my  groans  do  all  its  murmurs  aid  ! 

How  my  sad  eyes  do  swell  it  with  their  showers ! 

"What  doth  my  knight  the  while?  to  him  is  given 
A  double  meed  ;  in  love  and  arms'  emprise, 
Him  the  Round  Table  elevates  to  heaven  ! 
Tristram  !  ah  me  !  he  hears  not  Isoudes  cries." 


Breuse  the  Pitiless. 

Breuse  the  Pitiless,  who  like  most  other  caitiffs  had  felt  the 
weight  of  Tristram's  arm,  and  hated  him  accordingly,  at  hearing 
his  name  breathed  forth  by  the  beautiful  songstress,  impelled  by 
a  double  impulse,  rushed  forth  from  his  concealment  and  laid 
hands  on  his  victim.  Isoude  fainted,  and  Brengwain  filled  the 
air  with  her  shrieks.  Breuse  carried  Isoude  to  the  place  where 
he  had  left  his  horse ;  but  the  animal  had  got  away  from  his 
bridle,  and  was  at  some  distance.  He  was  obliged  to  lay  down 
his  fair  burden  and  go  in  pursuit  of  his  horse.  Just  then  a 
knight  canie  up,  drawn  by  the  cries  of  Brengwain,  and  demanded 
the  cause  of  her  distress.  She  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to 
her  mistress  lying  insensible  on  the  ground. 

Breuse  had  by  this  time  returned,  and  the  cries  of  Brengwain, 
renewed  at  seeing  him,  sufficiently  showed  the  stranger  the  cause 
of  the  distress.  Tristram  spurred  his  horse  toward  Breuse,  who, 
not  unprepared,  ran  to  the  encounter.  Breuse  was  unhorsed, 
and  lay  motionless,  pretending  to  be  dead ;  but  when  the 
stranger  knight  left  him  to  attend  to  the  distressed  damsels,  he 
mounted  his  horse,  and  made  his  escape. 

The  knight  now  approached  Isoude,  gently  raised  her  head, 
drew  aside  the  golden  hair  which  covered  her  countenance, 
gazed  thereon  for  an  instant,  uttered  a  cry,  and  fell  back  insen- 
sible. Brengwain  came  ;  her  cares  soon  restored  her  mistress  to 
life,  and  then  they  turned  their  attention  to  the  fallen  warrior. 
They  raised  his  visor,  and  discovered  the  countenance  of  Sir 
Tristram.  Isoude  threw  herself  on  the  body  of  her  lover  and 
bedewed  his  face  with  her  tears.  Their  warmth  revived  the 
knight,  and  Tristram,  on  awaking,  found  himself  in  the  arms  of 
his  dear  Isoude. 

9 


1 30  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

"  All  round  the  forest  sweeps  off,  black  in  shade, 
But  it  is  moonlight  in  the  open  glade  ; 
And  in  the  bottom  of  the  glade  shine  clear 
The  forest-chapel  and  the  fountain  near. 
— I  think  I  have  a  fever  in  my  blood  ; 
Come,  let  me  leave  the  shadow  of  this  wood,    1 
Ride  down,  and  bathe  my  hot  brow  in  the  flood. 
— Mild  shines  the  cold  spring  in  the  moon's  clear  light; 
God  !  'tis  her  face  plays  in  the  waters  bright. 
*  Fair  love,'  she  says,  *  canst  thou  forget  so  soon. 
At  this  soft  hour,  under  this  sweet  moon  ? — 
Isoude  !" — Matthew  Arnold. 

It  was  the  law  of  the  Round  Table  that  each  knight  after  his 
admission  should  pass  the  next  ten  days  in  quest  of  adventures, 
during  which  time  his  companions  might  meet  him  in  disguised 
armor  and  try  their  strength  with  him.  Tristram  had  now  been 
out  seven  days,  and  in  that  time  had  encountered  many  of  the 
best  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  acquitted  himself  with 
honor.  During  the  remaining  three  days  Isoude  remained  at 
the  abbey,  under  his  protection,  and  then  set  out  with  her 
maidens,  escorted  by  Sir  Tristram,  to  rejoin  King  Mark  at  the 
court  of  Camelot. 

This  happy  journey  was  one  of  the  brightest  epochs  in  the 
lives  of  Tristram  and  Isoude.  He  celebrated  it  by  a  lay  upon 
the  harp  in  a  peculiar  measure,  to  which  the  French  give  the 
name  of  Triolet. 

'*  With  fair  Isoude  and  with  love, 
Ah  !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead  ! 
How  blest  forever  thus  to  rove. 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love  ! 
As  she  wills,  I  live  and  move, 
And  cloudless  days  to  days  succeed  : 
With  fair  Isoude  and  with  love. 
Ah  !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead  ! 

"Journeying  on  from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair? 
Yon  green  turf  invites  to  play  ; 
Journeying  on  from  day  to  day, 
Ah  !  let  us  to  that  shade  away. 
Were  it  but  to  slumber  there  ! 
Journeying  on  from  break  of  day. 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair?" 


BRE  USE  THE  PITILESS.  1 3 1 

They  arrived  at  Camelot,  where  Sir  Launcelot  received  them 
most  cordially.  Isoude  was  introduced  to  King  Arthur  and 
Queen  Guinevere,  who  welcomed  her  as  a  sister.  As  King 
Mark  was  held  in  arrest  under  the  accusation  of  the  two  Cor- 
nish knights,  Queen  Isoude  could  not  rejoin  her  husband,  and 
Sir  Launcelot  placed  his  castle  of  La  Joyeuse  Garde  at  the  dis- 
posal of  his  two  friends,  who  there  took  up  their  abode. 

King  Mark,  who  found  himself  obliged  to  confess  the  truth 
of  the  charge  against  him,  or  to  clear  himself  by  combat 
with  his  accusers,  preferred  the  former,  and  King  Arthur, 
as  his  crime  had  not  been  perpetrated,  remitted  the  penalty,  only 
enjoining  upon  him,  under  pain  of  his  signal  displeasure,  to  lay 
aside  all  thoughts  of  vengeance  against  his  nephew.  In  the 
presence  of  the  king  and  his  court,  all  parties  were  formally 
reconciled ;  Mark  and  his  queen  departed  for  their  home,  and 
Tristram  remained  at  Arthur's  court. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Sir  Tris'tram  and  Sir  Para-me'des. 

While  Sir  Tristram  and  the  fair  Isoude  abode  yet  at  the  La 
Joyeuse  Garde,  Sir  Tristram  rode  forth  one  day,  without  armor, 
having  no  weapon  but  his  spear  and  his  sword.  And  as  he  rode 
he  came  to  a  place  where  he  saw  two  knights  in  battle,  and  one 
of  them  had  gotten  the  better,  and  the  other  lay  overthrown. 
The  knight  who  had  the  better  was  Sir  Palamedes.  When  Sir 
Palamedes  knew  Sir  Tristram,  he  cried  out,  '*  Sir  Tristram,  now 
we  be  met,  and  ere  we  depart  we  will  redress  our  old  wrongs." 
'*  As  for  that,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  ''  there  never  yet  was  Christian 
man  that  might  make  his  boast  that  I  ever  fled  from  him,  and 
thou  that  art  a  Saracen  shalt  never  say  that  of  me."  And  there- 
with Sir  Tristram  made  his  horse  to  run,  and  with  all  his  might 
came  straight  upon  Sir  Palamedes,  and  broke  his  spear  upon 
him.  Then  he  drew  his  sword  and  struck  at  Sir  Palamedes  six 
great  strokes,  upon  his  helm.  Sir  Palamedes  saw  that  Sir  Tris- 
tram had  not  his  armor  on,  and  he  marvelled  at  his  rashness  and 
his  great  folly  ]  and  said  to  himself,  "  If  I  meet  and  slay  him,  I 
am  shamed  wheresoever  I  go. "  Then  Sir  Tristram  cried  out, 
and  said,  "Thou  coward  knight,  why  wilt  thou  not  do  battle 
wnth  me  ?  for  have  thou  no  doubt  I  shall  endure  all  thy  malice." 
"Ah,  Sir  Tristram  !"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "thou  knowest  I  may 
not  fight  with  thee  for  shame ;  for  thou  art  here  naked,  and  I  am 
armed  ;  now  I  require  that  thou  answer  me  a  question  that  I 
shall  ask  you."  "Tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  Sir  Tristram.  "  I 
put  the  case,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "that  you  were  well  armed, 
and  I  naked  as  ye  be ;  what  would  you  do  to  me  now,  by  your 
(132) 


SIB  TRISTRAM  AND  SIR  PALAMEDES  133 

true  knighthood?"  "Ah  !"  said  Sir  Tristram,  ''now  I  under- 
stand thee  well,  Sir  Palamedes ;  and,  as  God  me  bless,  what  I 
shall  say  shall  not  be  said  for  fear  that  I  have  of  thee.  But  if 
it  were  so,  thou  shouldst  depart  from  me,  for  I  would  not  have 
to  do  with  thee."  "No  more  will  I  with  thee,"  said  Sir 
Palamedes,  " and  therefore  ride  forth  on  thy  way."  "As  for 
that,  I  may  choose,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "either  to  ride  or  to 
abide.      But,  Sir  Palamedes,  I  marvel  at  one  thing, — that  thou 

-'art  so  good  a  knight,  yet  that  thou  wilt  not  be  christened." 
"As  for  that,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "I  may  not  yet  be  christ- 
ened, for  a  vow  which  I  made  many  years  ago  ;  yet  in  my  heart 
I  believe  in  our  Saviour  and  his  mild  mother,  Mary ;  but  I  have 
yet  one  battle  to  do,  and  when  that  is  done  I  will  be  christened 
with  a  good  will."  "  By  my  head,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  as  for 
that  one  battle,  thou  shalt  seek  it  no  longer;  for  yonder  is  a 
knight,  whom  you  have  smitten  down.  Now  help  me  to  be 
clothed  in  his  armor,  and  I  will  soon  fulfil  thy  vow."  "As  ye 
will,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  so  shall  it  be."  So  they  rode  both 
unto  that  knight  that  sat  on  a  bank ;  and  Sir  Tristram  saluted 
him,  and  he  full  weakly  saluted  him  again.  "Sir,"  said  Sir 
Tristram,  "  I  pray  you  to  lend  me  your  whole  armor  ;  for  I  am 
unarmed,  and  I  must  do  battle  with  this  knight."  "  Sir,"  said 
the  hurt  knight,  "you  shall  have  it,  with  a  right  goodwill." 
Then  Sir  Tristram  unarmed  Sir  Galleron,  for  that  was  the  name 
of  the  hurt  knight,  and  he  as  well  as  he  could  helped  to  arm  Sir 
Tristram.  Then  Sir  Tristram  mounted  upon  his  own  horse,  and 
in  his  hand  he  took  Sir  Galleron' s  spear.  Thereupon  Sir  Pala- 
medes was  ready,  and  so  they  came  hurling  together,  and  each 
smote  the  other  in  the  midst  of  their  shields.  Sir  Palamedes' 
spear  broke,  and  Sir  Tristram  smote  down  the  horse.  Then  Sir 
Palamedes  leaped  from  his  horse  and  drew  out  his  sword.     That 

^  saw  Sir  Tristram,  and  therewith  he  alighted  and  tied  his  horse 
to  a  tree.  Then  they  came  together  as  two  wild  beasts,  lashing 
the  one  on  the  other,  and  so  fought  more  than  two  hours  ;  and 
often  Sir  Tristram  smote  such  strokes  at  Sir  Palamedes  that  he 
made  him  to  kneel,  and  Sir  Palamedes  broke  away  Sir  Tristram's 
shield,  and  wounded  him. 

"  So  well  accomplished  was  each  knight 
To  strike  and  to  defend  in  fight, 


134  J^ING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Their  meeting  was  a  goodly  sight, 

While  plate  and  mail  held  true. 

The  lists  with  planted  plumes  were  strewn 

Upon  the  wind  at  random  thrown, 

But  helm  and  breast- plate  bloodless  shone. 

It  seemed  their  feathered  crests  alone 

Should  this  encounter  rue. 

And  ever  as  the  combat  grows 

The  trumpet's  cheery  voice  arose. 

Like  lark's  shrill  song  the  flourish  flows, 

Heard  while  the  gale  of  April  blows. 

The  merry  greenwood  through." — Scott. 

Then  Sir  Tristram  was  wroth  out  of  measure,  and  he  rushed 
to  Sir  Palamedes  and  wounded  him  passing  sore  through  the 
shoulder,  and  by  fortune  smote  Sir  Palamedes'  sword  out  of 
his  hand.  And  if  Sir  Palamedes  had  stooped  for  his  sword, 
Sir  Tristram  had  slain  him.  Then  Sir  Palamedes  stood  and 
beheld  his  sword  with  a  full  sorrowful  heart.  *' Now,"  said 
Sir  Tristram,  "I  have  thee  at  a  vantage,  as  thou  hadst  me 
to-day ;  but  it  shall  never  be  said,  in  court,  or  among  good 
knights,  that  Sir  Tristram  did  slay  any  knight  that  was 
weaponless ;  therefore  take  thou  thy  sword,  and  let  us  fight 
this  battle  to  the  end."  Then  spoke  Sir  Palamedes  to  Sir  Tris- 
tram :  *'I  have  no  wish  to  fight  this  battle  any  more.  The 
offence  that  I  have  done  unto  you  is  not  so  great  but  that,  if  it 
please  you,  we  may  be  friends.  All  that  I  have  offended  is  for 
the  love  of  the  queen,  La  Belle  Isoude,  and  I  dare  maintain  that 
she  is  peerless  among  ladies ;  and  for  that  offence  ye  have  given 
me  many  grievous  and  sad  strokes,  and  some  I  have  given  you 
again.  Wherefore  I  require  you,  my  lord  Sir  Tristram,  forgive 
me  all  that  I  have  offended  you,  and  this  day  have  me  unto  the 
next  church ;  and  first  I  will  be  clean  confessed,  and  after  that 
see  you  that  I  be  truly  baptized,  and  then  we  will  ride  together 
unto  the  court  of  my  lord.  King  Arthur,  so  that  we  may  be 
there  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost."  ''Now  take  your  horse," 
said  Sir  Tristram,  *'and  as  you  have  said,  so  shall  it  be  done." 
So  they  took  their  horses,  and  Sir  Galleron  rode  with  them. 
When  they  came  to  the  church  of  Carlisle,  the  bishop  com- 
manded to  fill  a  great  vessel  with  water  ;  and  when  he  had  hal- 
lowed it,  he  then  confessed  Sir  Palamedes  clean,  and  christened 
him,  and  Sir  Tristram  and  Sir  Galleron  were  his  godfathers. 


SIE  TRISTRAM  AND  SIR  PALAMEDES.  1 35 

'♦And  slow  up  the  dim  aisle  afar, 
With  sable  cowl  and  scapular, 
And  snow-white  stoles  in  order  due 
The  Holy  Fathers,  two  by  two, 
In  long  procession  came. 
Taper  and  host  and  book  they  bare, 
And  holy  banner  flourished  fair 
With  the  Redeemer's  name. 
Above  the  prostrate  pilgrim  band. 
The  mitred  Abbot  stretched  his  hand 
And  blessed  them  as  they  kneeled. 
With  holy  cross  he  signed  them  all. 
And  prayed  they  might  be  sage  in  hall, 
And  fortunate  in  field. — Scott. 

Then  soon  after  they  departed,  and  rode  towards  Camelot,  where 
the  noble  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guinevere  were  keeping  a 
court  royal.  And  the  king  and  all  the  court  werfe  glad  that  Sir 
Palamedes  was  christened.  Then  Sir  Tristram  returned  again 
to  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  and  Sir  Palamedes  went  his  way. 

Not  long  after  these  events  Sir  Gawain  returned  from  Brittany, 
and  related  to  King  Arthur  the  adventure  which  befell  him  in 
the  forest  of  Breciliande,  how  Merlin  had  there  spoken  to  him, 
and  enjoined  him  to  charge  the  king  to  go  without  delay  upon 
the  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail.  While  King  Arthur  deliberated, 
Tristram  determined  to  enter  upon  the  quest,  and  the  more 
readily,  as  it  was  well  known  to  him  that  this  holy  adventure 
would,  if  achieved,  procure  him  pardon  of  all  his  sins.  He 
immediately  departed  for  the  kingdom  of  Brittany,  hoping  there 
to  obtain  from  Merlin  counsel  as  to  the  proper  course  to  pursue 
to  insure  success. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Sir  Tris'tram— I-soude'  of  the  White  Hands— The 
Death  of  Tris'tram. 

Sir  Tris'tram. 

On  arriving  in  Brittany  Tristram  found  King  Hoel  engaged 
in  a  war  with  a  rebellious  vassal,  and  hard  pressed  by  his  enemy. 
His  best  knights  had  fallen  in  a  late  battle,  and  he  knew  not 
where  to  turn  for  assistance.  Tristram  volunteered  his  aid.  It 
was  accepted  ;  and  the  army  of  Hoel,  led  by  Tristram,  and  in- 
spired by  his  example,  gained  a  complete  victory.  The  king, 
penetrated  by  the  most  lively  sentiments  of  gratitude,  and  having 
informed  himself  of  Tristram's  birth,  offered  him  his  daughter 
in  marriage.  The  princess  was  beautiful  and  accomplished,  and 
bore  the  same  name  with  the  Queen  of  Cornwall ;  but  this  one 
is  designated  by  the  Romancers  as 

I-soude'  of  the  W^hite  Hands 

to  distinguish  her  from  the  Isoude  of  whom  we  have  been  read- 
ing, who  was  known  as  Isoude  the  Fair. 

*'  Isoude  of  Brittany  ?  but  where 
Is  that  other  Isoude  fair, 
That  proud  first  Isoude,  Cornwall's  Queen?" 

— Matthew  Arnold. 

How  can  we  describe  the  conflict  that  agitated   the  heart  of 
( 136  ) 


ISOUDE  OF  THE  WHITE  HANDS.  137 

Tristram?  He  adored  the  first  Isoude,  but  his  love  for  her  was 
hopeless,  and  not  unaccompanied  by  remorse.  Moreover,  the 
sacred  quest  on  which  he  had  now  entered  demanded  of  him  per- 
fect purity  of  life.  It  seemed  as  if  a  happy  destiny  had  pro- 
vided for  him,  in  the  charming  princess  Isoude  of  the  White 
Hands,  the  best  security  for  all  his  good  resolutions.  This  last 
reflection  determined  him.  They  were  married,  and  passed 
some  months  in  tranquil  happiness  at  the  court  of  King  Hoel. 
The  pleasure  which  Tristram  felt  in  his  wife's  society  increased 
day  by  day.  An  inward  grace  seemed  to  stir  within  him  from 
the  moment  when  he  took  the  oath  to  go  on  the  quest  of  the 
Holy  Grail;  it  seemed  even  to  triumph  over  the  power  of  the 
magic  love -potion. 

The  war,  which  had  been  quelled  for  a  time,  now  burst  out 
anew.  Tristram,  as  usual,  was  foremost  in  every  danger.  The 
enemy  was  worsted  in  successive  conflicts,  and  at  last  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  principal  city.  Tristram  led  on  the  attack  of  the 
city.  As  he  mounted  a  ladder  to  scale  the  walls,  he  was  struck 
on  the  head  by  a  fragment  of  rock,  which  the  besieged  threw 
down  upon  him.  It  bore  him  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  in- 
sensible. 

As  soon  as  he  recovered  consciousness,  he  demanded  to  be 
carried  to  his  wife.  The  princess,  skilled  in  the  art  of  surgery, 
would  not  suffer  any  one  but  herself  to  touch  her  beloved  hus- 
band. Her  fair  hands  bound  up  his  wounds ;  Tristram  kissed 
them  with  gratitude,  which  began  to  grow  into  love.  At  first 
the  devoted  cares  of  Isoude  seemed  to  meet  with  great  success  ; 
but  after  a  while  these  flattering  appearances  vanished,  and, 
in  spite  of  all  her  care,  the  malady  grew  more  serious  day  by 
day. 

In  this  perplexity,  an  old  squire  of  Tristram's  reminded  his 
master  that  the  princess  of  Ireland,  afterwards  queen  of  Corn- 
wall, had  once  cured  him  under  circumstances  quite  as  discour- 
aging. He  called  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  to  him,  told  her 
of  his  former  cure,  added  that  he  believed  that  the  Queen  Isoude 
could  heal  him,  and  that  he  felt  sure  that  she  would  come  to  his 
relief  if  sent  for. 

Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  Gesnes,  a  trusty 
man  and  skilful  navigator,  should  be  sent  to  Cornwall.    Tristram 


1 3  8  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

called  him,  and,  giving  him  a  ring,  "Take  this,"  he  said,  "to 
the  queen  of  Cornwall.  Tell  her  that  Tristram,  near  to  death, 
demands  her  aid.  If  you  succeed  in  bringing  her  with  you, 
place  white  sails  to  your  vessel  on  your  return,  that  we  may  know 
of  your  success  when  the  vessel  first  heaves  in  sight.  But  if 
Queen  Isoude  refuses,  put  on  black  sails  ;  they  will  be  the  presage 
of  my  impending  death." 

Gesnes  performed  his  mission  successfully.  King' Mark  hap- 
pened to  be  absent  from  his  capital,  and  the  queen  readily  con- 
sented to  return  with  the  bark  to  Brittany.  Gesnes  clothed 
his  vessel  in  the  whitest  of  sails,  and  sped  his  way  back  to  Brit- 
tany. 

Meantime  the  wound  of  Tristram  grew  more  desperate  day  by 
day.  His  strength,  quite  prostrated,  no  longer  permitted  him 
to  be  carried  to  the  seaside  daily,  as  had  been  his  custom  from 
the  first  moment  when  it  was  possible  for  the  bark  to  be  on  the 
way  homeward.  He  called  a  young  damsel,  and  gave  her  in 
charge  to  keep  watch  in  the  direction  of  Cornwall,  and  to  come 
and  tell  him  the  color  of  the  sails  of  the  first  vessel  she  should 
see  approaching. 

When  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  the  queen 
of  Cornwall  should  be  sent  for,  she  had  not  known  all  the  reasons 
which  she  had  for  fearing  the  influence  which  renewed  inter 
course  with  that  princess  might  have  on  her  own  happiness.  She 
had  now  learned  more,  and  felt  the  danger  more  keenly.  She 
thought,  if  she  could  only  keep  the  knowledge  of  the  queen's 
arrival  from  her  husband,  she  might  employ  in  his  service  any 
resources  which  her  skill  could  supply,  and  still  avert  the  dangers 
which  she  apprehended  : 

"  Raise  the  light,  my  page,  that  I  may  see  her. 
Thou  art  come  at  last,  then,  haughty  Queen, 
Long  I've  waited,  long  I've  fought  my  fever, 
Late  thou  comest,  cruel  thou  hast  been." 

— Matthew  Arnold. 

When  the  vessel  was  seen  approaching,  with  its  white  sails 
sparkling  in  the  sun,  the  damsel,  by  command  of  her  mistress, 
carried  word  to  Tristram  that  the  sails  were  black. 

Tristram,  penetrated  with  inexpressible  grief,  breathed  a  pro- 


ISOUDE  OF  THE  WHITE  HANDS.  1 39 

found  sigh,  turned  away  his  face,  and  said,  **  Alas,  my  beloved  ! 
we  shall  never  see  one  another  again  !"  Then  he  commended 
himself  to  God,  and  breathed  his  last. 

The  Death  of  Tris'tram. 

The  death  of  Tristram  was  the  first  intelligence  which  the 
queen  of  Cornwall  heard  on  landing.  She  was  conducted 
almost  senseless  into  the  chamber  of  Tristram,  and  expired  hold- 
ing him  in  her  arms. 

"  She  comes  !  she  comes  ! — like  flash  of  flame, 
Can  lovers'  footsteps  fly  ; 
She  comes  !  she  comes  ! — she  only  came 
To  see  her  Tristram  die, 

**  She  saw  him  die  ;  her  latest  sigh, 
Joined  in  a  kiss  his  parting  breath, 
The  greatest  pair,  that  Britain  bare, 
United  are  in  death." — Scott. 

Tristram,  before  his  death,  had  requested  that  his  body  should 
be  sent  to  Cornwall,  and  that  his  sword,  with  a  letter  he  had 
written,  should  be  delivered  to  King  Mark.  The  remains  of 
Tristram  and  Isoude  were  embarked  in  a  vessel,  along  with  the 
sword,  which  was  presented  to  the  king  of  Cornwall.  He  was 
melted  with  tenderness  when  he  saw  the  weapon  which  slew 
Moraunt  of  Ireland — which  had  so  often  saved  his  life  and  re- 
deemed the  honor  of  his  kingdom.  In  the  letter  Tristram 
begged  pardon  of  his  uncle,  and  related  the  story  of  the  amor- 
ous draught. 

Mark  ordered  the  lovers  to  be  buried  in  his  own  chapel. 

*'  But  since  living  vfQ  were  ununited. 
Go  not  far,  O  Isoude,  from  my  grave." 

— Matthew  Arnold. 

From  the  tomb  of  Tristram  there  sprang  a  vine  which  went  along 
the  walls  and  descended  into  the  grave  of  the  queen.  It  was 
cut  down  three  times,  but  each  time  sprung  up  again  more  vig- 
orous than  before,  and  this  wonderful  plant  has  ever  since  shaded 
the  tombs  of  Tristram  and  Isoude. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Per'ce-val. 

Per'ce-val. 

The  father  and  two  elder  brothers  of  Perceval  had  fallen  in 
battle  or  tournaments,  and  hence,  as  the  last  hope  of  his  family, 
his  mother  retired  with  him  into  a  solitary  region,  where  he  was 
brought  up  in  total  ignorance  of  arms  and  chivalry.  He  was 
allowed  no  weapon  but  ''alyttel  Scots  spere,"  which  was  the 
only  thing  of  all  "  her  lordes  faire  gere  "  that  his  mother  carried 
to  the  wood  with  her.  In  the  use  of  this  he  became  so  skilful, 
that  he  could  kill  with  it  not  only  the  animals  of  the  chase  for 
her  table,  but  even  birds  on  the  wing.  At  length,  however, 
Perceval  was  roused  to  a  desire  of  military  renown  by  seeing  in 
the  forest  five  knights  who  were  in  complete  armor.  He  said 
to  his  mother,  ''  Mother,  what  are  those  yonder  ?"  ''  They  are 
angels,  my  son,"  said  she.  ''By  my  faith,  I  will  go  and  be- 
come an  angel  with  them."  And  Perceval  went  to  the  road 
and  met  them.  "  Tell  me  good  lad,"  said  one  of  them,  "  sawest 
thou  a  knight  pass  this  way  either  to-day  or  yesterday?"  "I 
know  not,"  said  he,  ''what  a  knight  is."  "Such  an  one  as  I 
am,"  said  the  knight.  "  If  thou  wilt  tell  me  what  I  ask  thee, 
I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  askest  me."  "  Gladly  will  I  do  so," 
said  Sir  Owain,  for  that  was  the  knight's  name.  "What  is 
this?"  demanded  Perceval,  touching  the  saddle.  "It  is  a  sad- 
dle," said  Owain.  Then  he  asked  about  all  the  accoutrements 
(  140) 


PERCEVAL.  141 

which  he  saw  upon  the  men  and  the  horses,  and  about  the  arms, 
and  what  they  were  for,  and  how  they  were  used.  And  Sir 
Owain  showed  him  all  those  things  fully.  And  Perceval  in  re- 
turn gave  him  such  information  as  he  had. 

Then  Perceval  returned  to  his  mother,  and  said  to  her, 
''Mother,  those  were  not  angels,  but  honorable  knights." 
Then  his  mother  swooned  away.  And  Perceval  went  to  the 
place  where  they  kept  the  horses  that  carried  firewood  and  provi- 
sions for  the  castle.  And  he  pressed  a  pack  into  the  form  of  a 
saddle,  and  with  twisted  twigs  he  imitated  the  trappings  which 
he  had  seen  upon  the  horses.  When  he  came  again  to  his  mother, 
the  countess  had  recovered  from  her  swoon.  *'My  son,"  said 
she,  ''desirest  thou  to  ride  forth?"  "Yes,  with  thy  leave," 
said  he.  ''Go  forward  then,"  she  said,  "to  the  court  of 
Arthur,  where  there  are  the  best  and  the  noblest  and  the  most 
bountiful  of  men,  and  tell  him  thou  art  Perceval,  the  son  of 
Pelenore,  and  ask  of  him  to  bestow  knighthood  on  thee.  And 
whenever  thou  seest  a  church,  repeat  there  thy  pater-noster ; 
and  if  thou  see  meat  and  drink,  and  hast  need  of  them,  thou 
mayest  take  them.  If  thou  hear  an  outcry  of  one  in  distress, 
proceed  toward  it,  especially  if  it  be  the  cry  of  a  woman,  and 
render  her  what  service  thou  canst.  If  thou  see  a  fair  jewel,  win 
it,  for  thus  shalt  thou  acquire  fame  ;  yet  freely  give  it  to  another, 
for  thus  thou  shalt  obtain  praise.  If  thou  see  a  fair  woman,  pay 
court  to  her,  for  thus  thou  wilt  obtain  love." 

After  this  discourse  Perceval  mounted  the  horse,  and,  taking 
a  number  of  sharp-pointed  sticks  iu  his  hand,  he  rode  forth. 
And  he  rode  far  in  the  woody  wilderness  without  food  or  drink. 
At  last  he  came  to  an  opening  in  the  wood,  where  he  saw  a  tent, 
and  as  he  thought  it  might  be  a  church  he  said  his  pater-noster 
to  it.  And  he  went  towards  it ;  and  the  door  of  the  tent  was 
open.  And  Perceval  dismounted  and  entered  the  tent.  In  the 
tent  he  found  a  maiden  sitting,  with  a  golden  frontlet  on  her 
forehead  and  a  gold  ring  on  her  hand.  And  Perceval  said, 
"  Maiden,  I  salute  you,  for  my  mother  told  me  whenever  I  met 
a  lady  I  must  respectfully  salute  her. ' '  Perceiving  in  one  corner 
of  the  tent  some  food,  two  flasks  full  of  wine,  and  some  boar's- 
flesh  roasted,  he  said,  "My  mother  told  me,  wherever  I  saw 
meat  and  drink,  to  take  it."     And  he  ate  greedily,  for  he  was 


142  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

very  hungry.  The  maiden  said,  ''  Sir,  thou  hadst  best  go  quickly 
from  here,  for  fear  that  my  friends  should  come,  and  evil  should 
befall  you."  But  Perceval  said,  **  My  mother  told  me,  where- 
soever I  saw  a  fair  jewel,  to  take  it,"  and  he  took  the  gold  ring 
from  her  finger,  and  put  it  on  his  own  ;  and  he  ^ave  the  maiden 
his  own  ring  in  exchange  for  her's ;  then  he  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  away. 

Perceval  journeyed  on  till  he  arrived  at  Arthur's  court.  And 
it  so  happened  that  just  at  that  time  an  uncourteous  knight  had 
offered  Queen  Guinevere  a  gross  insult.  For  when  her  page  was 
serving  the  queen  with  a  golden  goblet,  this  knight  struck  the 
arm  of  the  page  and  dashed  the  wine  in  the  queen's  face  and 
over  her  stomacher.  Then  he  said,  "  If  any  have  boldness  to 
avenge  this  insult  to  Guinevere,  let  him  follow  me  to  the 
meadow."  So  the  knight  took  his  horse  and  rode  to  the 
meadow,  carrying  away  the  golden  goblet.  And  all  the  house- 
hold hung  down  their  heads,  and  no  one  offered  to  follow  the 
knight  to  take  vengeance  upon  him. 

* '  Though  every  knight 
Was  black  with  rage,  not  one  would  follow." 

For  it  seemed  to  them  that  no  one  would  have  ventured  on  so 
daring  an  outrage  unless  he  possessed  such  powers,  through 
magic  or  charms,  that  none  could  be  able  to  punish  him.  Just 
then,  behold,  Perceval  entered  the  hall  upon  the  bony,  piebald 
horse,  with  his  uncouth  trappings.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall 
stood  Kay  the  Seneschal,  *'  Tell  me,  tall  man,"  said  Perceval, 
' '  is  that  Arthur  yonder  ?"  "  What  wouldst  thou  with  Arthur  ?' ' 
asked  Kay.  "  My  mother  told  me  to  go  to  Arthur  and  receive 
knighthood  from  him."  *'By  my  faith,"  said  he,  '*thou  art 
all  too  meanly  equipped  with  horse  and  with  arms."  Then  all 
the  household  began  to  jeer  and  laugh  at  him.  But  there  was  a 
certain  damsel  who  had  been  a  whole  year  at  Arthur's  court, 
and  had  never  been  known  to  smile.     And  the  king's  fooP  had 

^  A  fool  was  a  common  appendage  of  the  courts  of  those  days  when  this 
romance  was  written.  A  fool  was  the  ornament  held  in  next  estimation  to  a 
dwarf.  He  wore  a  white  dress  with  a  yellow  bonnet,  and  carried  a  bell  or 
bawble  in  his  hand.  Though  called  a  fool,  his  words  were  often  weighed 
and  remembered. 


PERCEVAL.  143 

said  that  this  damsel  would  not  smile  till  she  had  seen  him  who 
would  be  the  flower  of  chivalry.  Now  this  damsel  came  up  to 
Perceval  and  told  him,  smiling,  that,  if  he  lived,  he  would  be 
one  of  the  bravest  and  best  of  knights.  '* Truly,"  said  Kay, 
*'thou  art  ill  taught  to  remain  a  year  at  Arthur's  court,  with 
choice  of  society,  and  smile  on  no  one,  and  now  before  the  face 
of  Arthur  and  all  his  knights  to  call  such  a  man  as  this  the  flower 
of  knighthood  ;"  and  he  gave  her  a  box  on  the  ear  that  she 
fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Then  said  Kay  to  Perceval,  ''Go 
after  the  knight  who  went  hence  to  the  meadow,  overthrow  him 
and  recover  the  golden  goblet,  and  possess  thyself  of  his  horse 
and  arms,  and  thou  shalt  have  knighthood."  *'  I  will  do  so, 
tall  man,"  said  Perceval.  So  he  turned  his  horse's  head  toward 
the  meadow.  And  when  he  came  there,  the  knight  was  riding 
up  and  down,  proud  of  his  strength  and  valor  and  noble  mien. 
''Tell  me,"  said  the  knight,  "  didst  thou  see  any  one  coming 
after  me  from  the  court  ?"  "  The  tall  man  that  was  there, ' '  said 
Perceval,  "told  me  to  come  and  overthrow  thee,  and  take  from 
thee  the  goblet,  and  thy  horse  and  armor  for  myself. "  "  Silence ! ' ' 
said  the  knight ;  "go  back  to  the  court,  and  tell  Arthur  either  to 
come  himself,  or  to  send  some  other  to  fight  with  me  ;  and  unless 
he  do  so  quickly,  I  will  not  wait  for  him."  "By  my  faith," 
said  Perceval  "  choose  thou  whether  it  shall  be  willingly  or  un- 
willingly, for  I  will  have  the  horse  and  the  arms  and  the  goblet." 
Upon  this  the  knight  ran  at  him  furiously,  and  struck  him  a 
violent  blow  with  the  shaft  of  his  spear,  between  the  neck  and 
the  shoulder.  "Ha,  ha,  lad  !"  said  Perceval,  "my  mother's 
servants  were  not  used  to  play  with  me  in  this  wise  ;  so  thus  will 
I  play  with  thee."  And  he  threw  at  him  one  of  his  sharp- 
pointed  sticks,  and  it  struck  him  in  the  eye,  and  came  out  at  the 
back  of  his  head,  so  that  he  fell  down  lifeless. 

"Verily,"  said  Sir  Owain,  the  son  of  Urien,  to  Kay  the  Sen- 
eschal,  "thou  wast  ill  advised  to  send  that  madman  after  the 
knight,  for  he  must  either  be  overthrown  or  flee,  and  either  way 
it  will  be  a  disgrace  to  Arthur  and  his  warriors ;  therefore  will  I 
go  to  see  what  has  befallen  him."  So  Sir  Owain  went  to  the 
meadow,  and  he  found  Perceval  trying  in  vain  to  get  the  dead 
knight's  armor  off,  in  order  to  clothe  himself  with  it.  Sir 
Owain  unfastened  the  armor,  and  helped  Perceval  to  put  it  on, 


144  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

and  taught  him  how  to  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  use  the 
spur;  for  Perceval  had  never  used  stirrup  nor  spur,  but  rode 
without  saddle,  and  urged  on  his  horse  with  a  stick.  Then 
Owain  would  have  had  him  return  to  the  court  to  receive  the 
praise  that  was  his  due  ;  but  Perceval  said,  *'  I  will  not  come  to 
the  court  till  I  have  encountered  the  tall  man  that  is  there,  to 
revenge  the  injury  he  did  to  the  maiden.  But  take  thou  the 
goblet  to  Queen  Guinevere,  and  tell  King  Arthur  that,  wherever 
I  am,  I  will  be  his  vassal,  and  will  do  him  what  profit  and  ser- 
vice I  can."  And  Sir  Owain  went  back  to  the  court,  and 
related  all  these  things  to  Arthur  and  Guinevere,  and  to  all  the 
household. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  he  came  to  a  lake,  on  the 
side  of  which  was  a  fair  castle,  and  on  the  border  of  the  lake  he 
saw  a  hoary-headed  man  sitting  upon  a  velvet  cushion,  and  his 
attendants  were  fishing  in  the  lake.  When  the  hoary-headed 
man  beheld  Perceval  approaching,  he  arose  and  went  into  the 
castle.  Perceval  rode  to  the  castle,  and  the  door  was  open,  and 
he  entered  the  hall.  And  the  hoary -headed  man  received  Per- 
ceval courteously,  and  asked  him  to  sit  by  him  on  the  cushion. 
When  it  was  time,  the  tables  were  set,  and  they  went  to  meat. 
And  when  they  had  finished  their  meat,  the  hoary-headed  man 
asked  Perceval  if  he  knew  how  to  fight  with  the  sword.  *'I 
know  not,"  said  Perceval,  ''but  were  I  to  be  taught,  doubtless 
I  should."  And  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  him,  *'  I  am  thy 
uncle,  thy  mother's  brother;  I  am  called  King  Pecheur.'  Thou 
shalt  remain  with  me  a  space,  in  order  to  learn  the  manners  and 
customs  of  different  countries,  and  courtesy  and  noble  bearing. 
And  this  do  thou  remember,  If  thou  seest  aught  to  cause  thy 
wonder,  ask  not  the  meaning  of  it ;  if  no  one  has  the  courtesy 
to  inform  thee,  the  reproach  will  not  fall  upon  thee,  but  upon 
me  that  am  thy  teacher. ' '  While  Perceval  and  his  uncle  dis- 
coursed together,  Perceval  beheld  two  youths  enter  the  hall, 
bearing  a  golden  cup  and  a  spear  of  mighty  size,  with  blood 
dropping  from  its  point  to  the  ground.  And  when  all  the  com- 
pany saw  this,  they  began  to  weep  and  lament.  But  for  all  that, 
the  man  did  not  break  off  his  discourse  with  Perceval.  And  as 
he  did  not  tell  him  the  meaning  of  what  he  saw,  he  forbore  to 
J  Fisher  or  sinner. 


PERCEVAL.  145 

ask  him  concerning  it.  Now  the  cup  that  Perceval  saw  was  the 
Sangreal,  and  the  spear  the  sacred  spear ;  and  afterwards  King 
Pecheur  removed  with  those  sacred  relics  into  a  far  country. 

One  evening  Perceval  entered  a  valley,  and  came  to  a  hermit's 
cell ;  and  the  hermit  welcomed  him  gladly,  and  there  he  spent 
the  night.  And  in  the  morning  he  arose,  and  when  he  went 
forth,  behold  !  a  shower  of  snow  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  a 
hawk  had  killed  a  wild- fowl  in  front  of  the  cell.  And  the 
noise  of  the  horse  had  scared  the  hawk  away,  and  a  raven 
alighted  on  the  bird.  And  Perceval  stood  and  compared  the 
blackness  of  the  raven  and  the  whiteness  of  the  snow  and  the 
redness  of  the  blood  to  the  hair  of  the  lady  that  best  he  loved, 
which  was  blacker  than  jet,  and  to  her  skin,  which  was  whiter 
than  the  snow,  and  to  the  two  red  spots  upon  her  cheeks,  which 
were  redder  than  the  blood  upon  the  snow. 

Now  Arthur  and  his  household  were  in  search  of  Perceval, 
and  by  chance  they  came  that  way.  ''  Know  ye,"  said  Arthur, 
"  who  is  the  knight  with  the  long  spear  that  stands  by  the  brook 
up  yonder?"  ''  Lord,"  said  one  of  them,  ''  I  will  go  and  learn 
who  he  is.'.'  So  the  youth  came  to  the  place  where  Perceval 
was,  and  asked  him  what  he  did  thus,  and  who  he  was.  But 
Perceval  was  so  rntent  upon  his  thought  that  he  gave  him  no 
answer.  Then  the  youth  thrust  at  Perceval  with  his  lance  ;  and 
Perceval  turned  upon  him,  and  struck  him  to  the  ground.  And 
when  the  youth  returned  to  the  king,  and  told  how  rudely  he 
had  been  treated.  Sir  Kay  said,  "  I  will  go  myself."  And  when 
he  greeted  Perceval,  and  got  no  answer,  he  spoke  to  him  rudely 
and  angrily.  And  Perceval  thrust  at  him  with  his  lance,  and 
cast  him  down  so  that  he  broke  his  arm  and  his  shoulder-blade. 
And  while  he  lay  thus  stunned,  his  horse  returned  back  at  a  wild 
and  prancing  pace. 

Then  said  Sir  Ga wain,  surnamed  the  Golden-Tongued,  because 
he  was  the  most  courteous  knight  in  Arthur's  court :  "  It  is  not 
fitting  that  any  should  disturb  an  honorable  knight  from  his 
thought  unadvisedly ;  for  either  he  is  pondering  some  damage 
that  he  has  sustained,  or  he  is  thinking  of  the  lady  whom  best 
he  loves.  If  it  seem  well  to  thee,  lord,  I  will  go  and  see  if  this 
knight  has  changed  from  his  thought,  and  if  he  has,  I  will  ask 
him  courteously  to  come  and  visit  thee." 


146  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

And  Perceval  was  resting  on  the  shaft  of  his  spear,  pondering 
the  same  thought,  and  Sir  Gawain  came  to  him  and  said  :  ''If 
I  thought  it  would  be  as  agreeable  to  thee  as  it  would  be  to  me, 
I  would  converse  with  thee.  I  have  also  a  message  from  Arthur 
unto  thee,  to  pray  thee  to  come  and  visit  him.  And  two  men 
have  been  before  on  this  errand."  **That  is  true,"  said  Per- 
ceval ;  ''and  uncourteously  they  came.  They  attacked  me,  and 
I  was  annoyed  thereat."  Then  he  told  him  the  thought  that 
occupied  his  mind,  and  Gawain  said,  "This  was  not  an  ungentle 
thought,  and  I  should  marvel  if  it  were  pleasant  for  thee  to  be 
drawn  from  it."  Then  said  Perceval,  "Tell  me,  is  Sir  Kay  in 
Arthur's  court?"  "He  is,"  said  Gawain;  "and  truly  he  is 
the  knight  who  fought  with  thee  last."  "Verily,"  said  Perce- 
val, "lam  not  sorry  to  have  thus  avenged  the  insult  to  the 
smiling  maiden."  Then  Perceval  told  him  his  name,  and  said, 
"  Who  art  thou?"  And  he  replied,  "  I  am  Gawain."  "I  am 
right  glad  to  meet  thee,"  said  Perceval,  "for  I  have  everywhere 
heard  of  thy  prowess  and  uprightness  ;  and  I  solicit  thy  fellow- 
ship." "Thou  shalt  have  it,  by  my  faith;  and  grant  me 
thine,"  said  he,      "  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  answered  Perceval. 

So  they  went  together  to  Arthur,  and  saluted  him.  "  Behold, 
lord,"  said  Gawain,  '^  him  whom  thou  hast  sought  so  long." 
"  Welcome  unto  thee,  chieftain,"  said  Arthur.  And  hereupon 
there  came  the  queen  and  her  handmaidens,  and  Perceval  saluted 
them.  And  they  were  rejoiced  to  see  him,  and  bade  him  wel- 
come. And  Arthur  did  him  great  honor  and  respect,  and  they 
returned  towards  Caerleon. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  San'gre-al,  or  Holy  Grail — Sir  Gal'a-had — Sir 
Ga'wain. 

The  San'gre-al,   or  Holy  Grail. 

The  Sangreal  was  the  cup  from  which  our  Saviour  drank  at  his 
last  supper.  He  was  supposed  to  have  given  it  to  Joseph  of 
Arimathea,  who  carried  it  to  Europe,  together  with  the  spear 
with  which  the  soldier  pierced  the  Saviour's  side.  From  gen- 
eration to  generation,  one  of  the  descendants  of  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea had  been  devoted  to  the  guardianship  of  these  precious 
relics  ;  but  on  the  sole  condition  of  leading  a  life  of  purity  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed. 

''The  cup,  the  cup  itself,  from  which  our  Lord 
Drank  at  the  last  supper  with  his  own. 
This,  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aromat — 
After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the  dead 
Went  wandering  o'er  Moriah,  the  good  saint, 
Arimathsean  Joseph,  journeying  brought 
To  Glastonbury,  where  the  winter  thorn 
Blossoms  at  Christmas,  mindful  of  our  Lord, 
And  there  awhile  it  bode  ;  and  if  a  man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  heal'd  at  once, 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills." — The  Holy  Grail. 

For  a  long  time  the  Sangreal  was  visible  to  all  pilgrims,  and  its 
presence  conferred  blessings  upon  the  land  in  which  it  was  pre- 
served. But  at  length  one  of  those  holy  men  to  whom  its 
guardianship  had  descended,  so  far  forgot  the  obligation  of  his 
sacred  office  as  to  look  with  unhallowed  eye  upon  a  young  female 

(147) 


148  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

pilgrim  whose  robe  was  accidentally  loosened  aS  she  knelt  before 
him.  The  sacred  lance  instantly  punished  his  frailty,  spontane- 
ously falling  upon  him,  and  inflicting  a  deep  wound.  The 
marvellous  wound  could  by  no  means  be  healed,  and  the  guar- 
dian of  the  Sangreal  was  ever  after  called  "  Le  Roi  Pescheur" 
— the  Sinner  King.  The  Sangreal  withdrew  its  visible  presence 
from  the  crowds  who  came  to  worship,  and  an  iron  age  succeeded  ^ 
to  the  happiness  which  its  presence  had  diffused  among  the 
tribes  of  Britain. 

* '  But  then  the  times 
Grew  to  .such  evil  that  the  Holy  cup 
Was  caught  away  to  heaven  and  disappear'  d. ' ' 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

We  have  told  in  the  history  of  Merlin  how  that  great  prophet 
and  enchanter  sent  a  message  to  King  Arthur  by  Sir  Gawain, 
directing  him  to  undertake  the  recovery  of  the  Sangreal,  inform- 
ing him  at  the  same  time  that  the  knight  who  should  accomplish 
that  sacred  quest  was  already  born,  and  of  a  suitable  age  to  enter 
upon  it.  Sir  Gawain  delivered  his  message,  and  the  king  was 
anxiously  revolving  in  his  mind  how  best  to  achieve  the  enter- 
prise, when,  at  the  vigil  of  Pentecost,  all  the  fellowship  of  the 
Round  Table  being  met  together  at  Camelot,  as  they  sat  at  meat, 
suddenly  there  was  heard  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  then  a  bright 
light  burst  forth,  and  every  knight,  as  he  looked  on  his  fellow, 
saw  him,  in  seeming,  fairer  than  ever  before.  All  the  hall  was 
filled  with  sweet  odors,  and  every  knight  had  such  meat  and 
drink  as  he  best  loved.  Then  there  entered  into  the  hall  the 
Holy  Grail,  covered  with  white  samite,  so  that  none  could  see 
it,  and  it  passed  through  the  hall  suddenly,  and  disappeared. 

**  And  all  at  once,  as  there  we  sat,  we  heard 
A  cracking  and  a  riving  of  the  roofs, 
And  rending,  and  a  blast,  and  overhead 
Thunder,  and  in  the  thunder  was  a  cry, 
And  in  the  blast  there  smote  along  the  hall 
A  beam  of  light  seven  times  more  clear  than  day: 
And  down  the  long  beam  stole  the  Holy  Grail 
All  over  covered  with  a  luminous  cloud, 
And  none  might  see  who  bare  it,  and  it  past. 
But  every  knight  beheld  his  fellow's  face 
As  in  a  glory,  and  all  the  knights  arose, 
And  .staring  each  at  other  like  dumb  men 
Stood." — The  Holy  Grail. 


SFR  GALAHAD. 


149 


During  this  time  no  one  spoke  a  word,  but  when  they  had 
recovered  breath  to  speak,  King  Arthur  said,  **  Certainly  we 
ought  greatly  to  thank  the  Lord  for  what  he  hath  showed  us  this 
day."  Then  Sir  Gawain  rose  up,  and  made  a  vow  that  for 
twelve  months  and  a  day  he  would  seek  the  Sangreal,  and  not 
return  till  he  had  seen  it,  if  so  he  might  speed.  When  they  of 
the  Round  Table  heard  Sir  Gawain  say  so,  they  arose,  the  most 
part  of  them,  and  vowed  the  same. 

"I  sware  a  vow  before  them  all,  that  I, 
Because  I  had  not  seen  the  Grail,  would  ride 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day  in  quest  of  it, 
Until  I  found  and  saw  it,  as  the  nun 
My  sister  saw  it ;  and  Galahad  sware  the  vow, 
And  good  Sir  Bors,  our  Launcelot's  cousin,  sware, 
And  Launcelot  sware,  and  many  among  the  knights, 
And  Gawain  sware,  and  louder  than  the  rest." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

When  King  Arthur  heard  this,  he  was  greatly  displeased,  for  he 
knew  well  that  they  might  not  gainsay  their  vows.  **Alas!" 
said  he  to  Sir  Gawain,  *^  you  have  nigh  slain  me  with  the  vow 
and  promise  that  ye  have  made,  for  ye  have  bereft  me  of  the 
fairest  fellowship  that  ever  were  seen  together  in  any  realm  of 
the  world  ;  for  when  they  shall  depart  hence,  I  am  sure  that  all 
shall  never  meet  more  in  this  world." 

*'  Then  when  he  asked  us,  knight  by  knight,  if  any 
Had  seen  it,  all  their  answers  were  as  one, 
*Nay,  Lord,  and  therefore  have  we  sworn  our  vows.' 

"  *  Lo,  now,'  said  Arthur,  *  have  ye  seen  a  cloud? 
What  go  ye  into  the  wilderness  to  see?' 

•*  Then  Galahad  on  the  sudden,  and  in  a  voice 
Shrilling  along  the  hall  to  Arthur,  call'd, 
*  But  I,  Sir  Arthur,  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
I  saw  the  Holy  Grail  and  heard  a  cry — 
O  Galahad,  and  O  Galahad,  follow  me.'  " — The  Holy  GrAIL. 

Sir  Gal'a-had. 

At  that  time  there  entered  the  hall  a  good  old  man,  and  with 
him  he  brought  a  young  knight,  and  these  words  he  said : 
'*  Peace  be  with  you,  fair  lords."  Then  the  old  man  said  unto 
King  Arthur,  "  Sir,  I  bring  you  here  a  young  knight  that  is  of 


I  50  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

kings'  lineage,  and  of  the  kindred  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
being  the  son  of  Dame  Elaine,  the  daughter  of  King  Pelles, 
king  of  the  foreign  country."  Now  the  name  of  the  young 
knight  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he  was  the  son  of  Sir  Launcelot 
du  Lac ;  but  he  had  dwelt  with  his  mother,  at  the  court  of 
King  Pelles,  his  grandfather,  till  now  he  was  old  enough  to 
bear  arms,  and  his  mother  had  sent  him  in  the  charge  of  a  holy 
hermit  to  King  Arthur's  court.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  beheld  his 
son,  and  had  great  joy  of  him.  And  Sir  Bohort  told  his  fellows, 
'*Upon  my  life,  this  young  knight  shall  come  to  great  worship." 
The  noise  was  great  in  all  the  court,  so  that  it  came  to  the  queen. 
And  she  said,  '*  I  would  fain  see  him,  for  he  must  needs  be  a 
noble  knight,  for  so  is  his  father. ' '  And  the  queen  and  her 
ladies  all  said  that  he  resembled  much  unto  his  father ;  and  he 
was  seemly  and  demure  as  a  dove,  with  all  manner  of  good 
features,  that  in  the  whole  world  men  might  not  find  his  match. 
And  King  Arthur  said,  ''  God  make  him  a  good  man,  for  beauty 
faileth  him  not,  as  any  that  liveth. ' ' 

*'  *  God  make  thee  good  as  thou  art  beautiful,' 

Said  Arthur,  when  he  dubb'd  hira  knight ;  and  none 

In  so  young  youth  was  ever  made  a  knight 

Till  Galahad  ;  and  this  Galahad,  when  he  heard 

My  sister's  vision,  filled  me  with  amaze  ; 

His  eyes  became  so  like  her  own,  they  seem'd 

Hers,  and  himself  her  brother  more  than  I. 

**  Sister  or  brother  none  had  he  ;  but  some 
Call'd  him  a  son  of  Launcelot,  and  some  said 
Begotten  by  enchantment, — chatterers,  they, 
Like  birds  of  passage  piping  up  and  down 
That  gape  for  flies, — we  know  not  whence  they  come." 

— The  Holy  Graiu 

Then  the  hermit  led  the  young  knight  to  the  Siege  Perilous ; 
and  he  lifted  up  the  cloth,  and  found  there  letters  that  said, 
''This  is  the  seat  of  Sir  Galahad,  the  good  knight;"  and  he 
made  him  sit  in  that  seat.  And  all  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  marvelled  greatly  at  Sir  Galahad,  seeing  him  sit  securely 
in  that  seat,  and  said,  ''This  is  he  by  whom  the  Sangreal  shall 
be  achieved,  for  there  never  sat  one  before  in  that  seat  without 
being  mischieved. ' ' 


Sir  Galahad. 


SIR  GALAHAD.  151 

**  In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  vacant  chairj, 
Fashion' d  by  Merlin  ere  he  past  away, 
And  carven  with  strange  figures  ;  and  in  and  out 
The  figures,  like  a  serpent,  ran  a  scroll 
Of  letters  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  read. 
And  Merlin  call'd  it  'The  Siege  Perilous,' 
Perilous  for  good  and  ill ;  *  for  there,'  he  said, 
*  No  man  could  sit  but  he  should  lose  himself:' 
And  once  by  misadvertence  Merlin  sat 
In  his  own  chair,  and  so  was  lost ;  but  he, 
Galahad,  when  he  heard  of  Merlin's  doom. 
Cried,  '  If  I  lose  myself  I  save  myself!'  " 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

On  the  next  day  the  king  said,  *'Now,  at  this  quest  of  the 
Sangreal  shall  all  ye  of  the  Round  Table  depart,  and  never  shall 
I  see  you  again  altogether  ;  therefore  I  will  that  ye  all  repair  to 
the  meadow  of  Camelot,  for  to  just  and  tourney  yet  once  more 
before  ye  depart."  But  all  the  meaning  of  the  king  was  to  see 
Sir  Galahad  proven.  So  then  were  they  all  assembled  in  the 
meadow.  Then  Sir  Galahad,  by  request  of  the  king  and  queen, 
put  on  his  harness  and  his  helm,  but  shield  would  he  take  none 
for  any  prayer  of  the  king.  And  the  queen  was  in  a  tower,  with 
all  her  ladies,  to-  behold  that  tournament.  Then  Sir  Galahad 
rode  into  the  midst  of  the  meadow ;  and  there  he  began  to 
break  spears  marvellously,  so  that  all  men  had  wonder  of  him, 
for  he  surmounted  all  knights  that  encountered  with  him,  except 
two,  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Perceval. 

"  So  many  knights,  that  all  the  people  cried. 
And  almost  burst  the  barriers  in  their  heat, 
Shouting  *  Sir  Galahad  and  Sir  Perceval  I'  " 

— Sir  Galahad. 

Then  the  king,  at  the  queen's  request^  made  him  to  alight,  and 
presented  him  to  the  queen;  and  she  said,  **  Never  two  men 
resembled  one  another  more  than  he  and  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
therefore  it  is  no  marvel  that  he  is  like  him  in  prowess. ' ' 

Then  the  king  and  the  queen  went  to  the  minster,  and  the 
knights  followed  them.  And  after  the  service  was  done,  they 
put  on  their  helms  and  departed,  and  there  was  great  sorrow. 
They  rode  through  the  streets  of  Camelot,  and  there  was  weep- 
ing of  the  rich  and  poor  ;  and  the  king  turned  away,  and  might 


152  KTNQ  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

not  speak  for  weeping.  And  so  they  departed,  And  every 
knight  took  the  way  that  him  best  liked. 

Sir  Galahad  rode  forth  without  shield,  and  rode  four  days,  and 
found  no  adventure.  And  on  the  fourth  day  he  came  to  a  white 
abbey ;  and  there  he  was  received  with  great  reverence,  and  led 
to  a  chamber. 

"  When  down  the  stormy  crescent  goes, 
A  light  before  me  swims, 
Between  dark  stems  the  forest  glows, 

I  hear  a  noise  of  hymns  : 
Then  by  some  secret  shrine  I  ride  ; 

I  hear  a  voice,  but  none  are  there  ; 
The  stalls  are  void,  the  doors  are  wide, 

The  tapers  burning  fair. 
Fair  gleams  the  snowy  altar-cloth, 
The  silver  vessels  sparkle  clean. 
The  shrill  bell  rmgs,  the  censer  swings, 
And  solemn  chants  resound  between. 

"  The  clouds  have  broken  in  the  sky. 

And  through  the  mountain  walls 
A  rolling  organ- harmony 

Swells  up  and  shakes  and  falls. 
Then  move  the  trees,  the  copses  nod, 

Wings  flutter,  voices  hover  clear. 

*< '  O  just  and  faithful  knight  of  God  ! 
Ride  on  !  the  prize  is  near.' 
So  pass  I  hostel,  hall,  and  grange  ; 

By  bridge  and  ford,  by  park  and  pale. 
All-arm' d  I  ride,  whate'er  betide, 

Until  I  find  the  Holy  Grail."— Sir  Galahad. 

He  met  there  two  knights,  King  Bagdemagus  and  Sir  Uwaine, 
and  they  made  of  him  great  solace.  "  Sirs,"  said  Sir  Galahad, 
"  what  adventure  brought  you  hither?"  '' Sir,"  said  they,  ^'itis 
told  us  that  within  this  place  is  a  shield,  which  no  man  may  bear 
unless  he  be  worthy  ;  and  if  one  unworthy  should  attempt  to  bear 
it,  it  shall  surely  do  him  a  mischief"  Then  King  Bagdemagus 
said,  *'  I  fear  not  to  bear  it,  and  that  shall  ye  see  to-morrow." 

So  on  the  morrow  they  arose,  and  heard  mass ;  then  King 
Bagdemagus  asked  where  the  adventurous  shield  was.  Anon  a 
monk  led  him  behind  an  altar,  where  the  shield  hung,  as  white 
as  snow  ;  but  in  the  midst  there  was  a  red  cross.  Then  King 
Bagdemagus  took  the  shield,  and  bear  it  out  of  the  mintser ;  and 


SIR  GAWATN.  153 

he  said  to  Sir  Galahad,  ''If  it  please  you,  abide  here  till  ye 
know  how  I  shall  speed." 

Then  King  Bagdemagus  and  his  squire  rode  forth  ;  and  when 
they  had  ridden  a  mile  or  two,  they  saw  a  goodly  knight  come 
towards  them,  in  white  armor,  horse  and  all ;  and  he  came  as 
fast  as  his  horse  might  run,  with  his  spear  in  the  rest ;  and  King 
Bagdemagus  directed  his  spear  against  him,  and  broke  it  upon 
the  white  knight,  but  the  other  struck  him  so  hard  that  he  broke 
the  mails,  and  thrust  him  through  the  right  shoulder,  for  the 
shield  covered  him  not,  and  so  he  bare  him  from  his  horse. 
Then  the  white  knight  turned  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

Then  the  squire  went  to  King  Bagdemagus,  and  asked  him 
whether  he  were  sore  wounded  or  not.  "I  am  sore  wounded," 
said  he,  ''and  full  hardly  shall  I  escape  death."  Then  the 
squire  set  him  on  his  horse,  and  brought  him  to  an  abbey ;  and 
there  he  was  taken  down  softly,  and  unarmed,  and  laid  in  a  bed, 
and  his  wound  was  looked  to,  for  he  lay  there  long,  and  hardly 
escaped  with  his  life.  And  the  squire  brought  the  shield  back 
to  the  abbey. 

The  next  day  Sir  Galahad  took  the  shield,  and  within  a  while 
he  came  to  the  hermitage,  where  he  met  the  white  knight,  and 
each  saluted  the  other  courteously.  "Sir,"  said  Sir  Galahad, 
"can  you  tell  me  the  marvel  of  the  shield?"  "  Sir,"  said  the 
white  knight,  "  that  shield  belonged  of  old  to  the  gentle  knight, 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  ;  and  when  he  came  to  die  he  said,  '  Never 
shall  man  bear  this  shield  about  his  neck  but  he  shall  repent  it, 
unto  the  time  that  Sir  Galahad  the  good  knight  bear  it,  the  last 
of  my  lineage,  the  which  shall  do  many  marvellous  deeds.'  " 
And  then  the  white  knight  vanished  away.  , 

Sir  Ga'wain. 
After  Sir  Gawain  departed,  he  rode  many  days,  both  toward 
and  forward,  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  abbey  where  Sir  Gala- 
had took  the  white  shield.  And  they  told  Sir  Gawain  of  the 
marvellous  adventure  that  Sir  Galahad  had  done.  "Truly," 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "  I  am  not  happy  that  I  took  not  the  way  that 
he  went,  for,  if  I  may  meet  with  him,  I  will  not  part  from  him 
lightly,  that  I  may  partake  with  him  all  the  marvellous  adven- 
tures which  he  shall  achieve."      "  Sir,"  said  one  of  the  monks, 


1 54  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

"he  will  not  be  of  your  fellowship."  ''Why?"  said  Sir  Ga- 
wain.  *'  Sir,"  said  he,  **  because  ye  be  sinful  and  he  is  blissful." 
Then  said  the  monk,  "  Sir  Gawain,  thou  must  do  penance  for 
thy  sins."  ''Sir,  what  penance  shall  I  do?"  "  Such  as  I  will 
show,"  said  the  good  man.  "  Nay,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  I  will 
do  no  penance,  for  we  knights  adventurous  often  suffer  great  woe 
and  pain. "  "  Well, ' '  said  the  good  man  ;  and  he  held  his  peace. 
And  Sir  Gawain  departed. 

Now  it  happened,  not  long  after  this,  that  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir 
Hector  rode  together,  and  they  came  to  a  castle  where  was  a 
great  tournament.  And  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  joined  them- 
selves to  the  party  that  seemed  the  weaker,  and  they  drove  be- 
fore them  the  other  party.  Then  suddenly  came  into  the  lists 
a  knight  bearing  a  white  shield  with  a  red  cross,  and  by  adven- 
ture he  came  by  Sir  Gawain,  and  he  smote  him  so  hard  that  he 
clave  his  helm  and  wounded  his  head,  so  that  Sir  Gawain  fell  to 
the  earth.  When  Sir  Hector  saw  that,  he  knew  that  the  knight 
with  the  white  shield  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he  thought  it  no  wis- 
dom to  abide  him,  and  also  for  natural  love,  that  he  was  his 
uncle.  Then  Sir  Galahad  retired  privily,  so  that  none  knew 
where  he  had  gone.  And  Sir  Hector  raised  up  Sir  Gawain  and 
said,  "Sir,  me  seemeth  your  quest  is  done."  "It  is  done," 
said  Sir  Gawain ;   "I  shall  seek  no  further." 

*'  *  Nay,  lord,'  said  Gawain,  *  not  for  such  as  I. 
Therefore  I  communed  with  a  saintly  man, 
Who  made  me  sure  the  quest  w  as  not  for  me. 
For  I  was  much  awearied  of  the  quest. 
But  found  a  silk  pavilion  in  a  field, 
And  merry  maidens  in  it  ;  and  then  this  gale 
Tqre  my  pavilion  from  the  tenting-pin, 
And  blew  my  merry  maidens  all  about 
With  all  discomfort ;  yea,  and  but  for  this 
My  twelvemonth  and  a  day  were  pleasant  to  me.'* 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Then  Gawain  was  borne  into  the  castle,  and  unarmed,  and  laid 
in  a  rich  bed,  and  a  leech  found  to  search  his  wound.  And  Sir 
Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  abode  together,  for  Sir  Hector  would 
not  away  till  Sir  Gawain  were  whole. 

Sir  Gawain  was  a  knight  devoted  to  the  pleasures  of  life.  The 
religious  side  of  knighthood  gave  him  no  concern. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  San'gre-al  (Continued). 

Sir  Launcelot. 
Sir  Launcelot  rode  overthwart  and  endlong  in  a  wide  forest, 
and  held  no  path-but  as  wild  adventure  led  him, 

•*  My  golden  spurs  now  bring  to  me, 

And  bring  to  me  my  richest  mail. 
For  to-morrow  I  go  over  land  and  sea 

In  search  of  the  Holy,  Holy  Grail. 
Shall  never  a  bed  for  me  be  spread. 
Nor  shall  a  pillow  be  under  my  head. 
Till  I  begin  my  vow  to  keep. 
Here  on  the  rushes  will  I  sleep. 
And  perchance  there  may  come  a  vision  true 
Ere  day  create  the  world  anew." — Lowell's  Holy  Grail. 

And  at  last  he  came  to  a  stone  cross.  Then  Sir  Launcelot 
looked  round  him  and  saw  an  old  chapel.  So  he  tied  his  horse 
to  a  tree,  and  put  off  his  shield,  and  hung  it  upon  a  tree ;  and 
then  he  went  unto  the  chapel,  and  looked  through  a  place  where 
the  wall  was  broken.  And  within  he  saw  a  fair  altar,  full  richly 
arrayed  with  cloth  of  silk ;  and  there  stood  a  fair  candlestick, 
which  bare  six  great  candles,  and  the  candlestick  was  of  silver. 
When  Sir  Launcelot  saw  this  sight,  he  had  a  great  wish  to  enter 

(155) 


156  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

the  chapel,  but  he  could  find  no  place  where  he  might  enter. 
Then  was  he  passing  heavy  and  dismayed.  And  he  returned 
and  came  again  to  his  horse,  and  took  off  his  saddle  and  his 
bridle  and  let  him  pasture,  and  unlaced  his  helm,  and  ungirded 
his  sword,  and  laid  him  down  to  sleep  upon  his  shield  before  the 
cross. 

And  as  he  lay,  half-waking  and  half-sleeping,  he  saw  come  by 
him  two  palfreys,  both  fair  and  white,  which  bare  a  litter,  on 
which  lay  a  sick  knight.  And  when  he  was  nigh  the  cross  he 
there  abode  still.  And  Sir  Launcelot  heard  him  say,  *'  O  sweet 
Lord,  when  shall  this  sorrow  leave  me,  and  when,  shall  the  holy 
vessel  come  by  me  whereby  I  shall  be  healed  ?' '  And  thus  a 
great  while  complained  the  knight,  and  Sir  Launcelot  heard  it. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  the  candlestick,  with  the  lighted  tapers, 
come  before  the  cross,  but  he  could  see  nobody  that  brought  it. 
Also  there  came  a  salver  of  silver  and  the  holy  vessel  of  the 
Sangreal ;  and  therewithal  the  sick  knight  sat  him  upright,  and 
held  up  both  his  hands,  and  said,  "Fair,  sweet  Lord,  which  is 
here  within  the  holy  vessel,  take  heed  to  me,  that  I  may  be 
whole  of  this  great  malady."  And  therewith,  upon  his  hands 
and  upon  his  knees,  he  went  so  nigh  that  he  touched  the  holy 
vessel  and  kissed  it.  And  anon  he  was  whole.  Then  the  holy 
vessel  went  into  the  chapel  again,  with  the  candlestick  and  the 
light,  so  that  Sir  Launcelot  wist  not  what  became  of  it. 

Then  the  sick  knight  rose  up  and  kissed  the  cross ;  and  anon 
his  squire  brought  him  his  arms,  and  asked  his  lord  how  he  did. 
'*I  thank  God  right  heartily,"  said  he,  "for,  through  the  holy 
vessel,  I  am  healed.  But  I  have  great  marvel  of  this  sleeping 
knight,  who  hath  had  neither  grace  nor  power  to  awake  during 
the  time  that  the  holy  vessel  hath  been  here  present. "  "I  dare 
it  right  well  say,"  said  the  squire,  "  that  this  same  knight  is 
stained  with  some  manner  of  deadly  sin,  -vvhereof  he  was  never 
confessed."     So  they  departed. 

Then  anon  Sir  Launcelot  waked,  and  set  himself  upright, 
and  bethought  him  of  what  he  had  seen,  and  whether  it  were 
dreams  or  not.  And  he  was  passing  heavy,  and  wist  not  what 
to  do.  And  he  said:  "My  sin  and  my  wretchedness  hath 
brought  me  great  dishonor.  For  when  I  sought  worldly  ad- 
ventures and  worldly  desires,  I  ever  achieved  them,  and  had  the 


SIR  PERCEVAL.  1 57 

better  in  every  place,  and  never  was  I  discomforted  in  any 
quarrel,  were  it  right  or  wrong.  And  now  I  take  upon  me  the 
adventure  of  holy  things,  I  see  and  understand  that  mine  old  sin 
hindereth  me,  so  that  I  had  no  power  to  stir  nor  to  speak  when 
the  holy  blood  appeared  before  me. ' ' 

"  But  in  me  lived  a  sin 
So  strange,  of  such  a  kind,  that  all  of  pure, 
Noble,  and  knightly  in  me  twined  and  clung 
Round  that  one  sin,  until  the  wholesome  flower 
And  poisonous  grew  together,  each  as  each, 
Not  to  be  pluck' d  asunder." — The  Holy  Grail. 

So  thus  he  sorrowed  till  it  was  day,  and  heard  the  fowls  of 
the  air  sing.      Then  was  he  somewhat  comforted. 

Then  he  departed  from  the  cross  into  the  forest.  And  there 
he  found  a  hermitage,  and  a  hermit  therein,  who  was  going  to 
mass.  So  when  mass  was  done.  Sir  Launcelot  called  the  hermit 
to  him,  and  prayed  him  for  charity  to  hear  his  confession. 
"  With  a  good  will,"  said  the  good  man.  And  then  he  told 
that  good  man  all  his  life,  and  how  he  had  loved  a  queen  un- 
measurably  many  years.  "  And  all  my  great  deeds  of  arms 
that  I  have  done, 'I  did  the  most  part  for  the  queen's  sake,  and 
for  her  sake  would  I  do  battle,  were  it  right  or  wrong,  and  never 
did  I  battle  all  only  for  God's  sake,  but  for  to  win  worship,  and 
to  cause  me  to  be  better  beloved  ;  and  little  or  naught  I  thanked 
God  for  it.      I  pray  you  counsel  me." 

"  I  will  counsel  you,"  said  the  hermit,  'Mf  ye  will  insure  me 
that  ye  will  never  come  in  that  queen's  fellowship  as  much  as  ye 
may  forbear. ' '  And  then  Sir  Launcelot  promised  the  hermit, 
by  his  faith,  that  he  would  no  more  come  in  her  company. 
''  Look  that  your  heart  and  your  mouth  accord,"  said  the  good 
man,  *'and  I  shall  insure  you  that  ye  shall  have  more  worship 
than  ever  ye  had. ' ' 

Then  the  good  man  enjoined  Sir  Launcelot  such  penance  as 
he  might  do,  and  he  assoiled  Sir  Launcelot,  and  made  him  abide 
with  him  all  that  day.    And  Sir  Launcelot  repented  him  greatly. 

Sir  Per'ce-val. 

Sir  Perceval's  journey  lay  through  a  low,  deep  valley.  He 
had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  a  hermit,  who  lived  in  a  hermit- 


158 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 


age  near  to  a  chapel.  The  hermit,  knowing  his  mission,  told  him 
that,  unlike  Sir  Galahad,  he  did  not  possess  the  humility  necessary 
to  see  the  Holy  Grail.     While  he  was  speaking, 


Knightly  Devotion. 


"  In  silver  armor  suddenly  Galahad  shone 
Before  us,  and  against  the  chapel  door 


Sm  PERCEVAL.  159 

Laid  lance,  and  entered,  and  we  knelt  in  prayer. 
And  there  the  hermit  slaked  my  burning  thirst ; 
And  at  the  sacring  of  the  mass  I  saw 
The  holy  elements  alone." — The  Holy  Grail. 

The  vision  passed  in  a  moment,  and  Sir  Perceval  was  left  alone 
to  resume  his  journey.  While  still  riding  through  the  valley  he 
met  twenty  men  in  armor.  When  they  saw  the  knight  they 
asked  him  whence  he  was  ;  and  he  answered,  *'  Of  the  court  of 
King  Arthur. ' '  Then  they  cried  all  at  once,  "  Slay  him. ' '  But 
Sir  Perceval  smote  the  first  to  the  earth,  and  his  horse  upon  him. 
Then  seven  of  the  knights  smote  upon  his  shield  all  at  once,  and 
the  remnant  slew  his  horse,  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  So  had 
they  slain  him  or  taken  him,  had  not  the  good  knight  Sir  Gala- 
had, with  the  red  cross,  come  there  by  adventure.  And  when 
he  saw  all  the  knights  upon  one,  he  cried  out,  "  Save  me  that 
knight's  life."  Then  he  rode  toward  the  twenty  men  of  arms 
as  fast  as  his  horse  might  drive,  with  his  spear  in  the  rest,  and 
smote  the  foremost  horse  and  man  to  the  earth.  And  when  his 
spear  was  broken,  he  set  his  hand  to  his  sword,  and  smote  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  that  it  was  marvel  to  see ;  and 
at  every  stroke  he  smote  down  one,  or  put  him  to  rebuke,  so 
that  they  would  fight  no  more,  but  fled  to  a  thick  forest,  and  Sir 
Galahad  followed  them.      An'd  when  Sir  Perceval  saw  him  chase 

\them  so,  he  made  great  sorrow  that  his  horse  was  slain.  And 
W  wist  well  it  was  Sir  Galahad.  Then  he  cried  aloud,  ''Ah, 
fair  knight,  abide,  and  suffer  me  to  do  thanks  unto  thee  ;  for 
right  well  have  ye  done  for  me."  But  Sir  Galahad  rode  so  fast, 
that  at  last  he  passed  out  of  his  sight.  When  Sir  Perceval  saw 
that  he  would  not  turn,  he  said,  *'  Now  am  I  a  very  wretch,  and 
most  unhappy  above  all  other  knights. "  So  in  this  sorrow  he 
abode  all  that  day  till  it  was  night ;  and  then   he  was  faint,  and 

-  laid  him  down  and  slept  till  midnight ;  and  then  he  awaked, 
and  saw  before  him  a  woman,  who  said  unto  him,  "  Sir  Perceval, 
what  dost  thou  here?"  He  answered,  ''  I  do  neither  good,  nor 
great  ill."  "If  thou  wilt  promise  me,"  said  she,  *' that  thou 
wilt  fulfil  my  will  when  I  summon  thee,  I  will  lend  thee  my  own 
horse,  which  shall  bear  thee  whither  thou  wilt."  Sir  Perceval 
was  glad  of  her  proffer,  and  insured  her  to  fulfil  all  her  desire. 
**Then  abide  me  here,  and  I  will  go  fetch  you  a  horse."      And 


l6o        '        KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

so  she  soon  came  again,  and  brought  a  horse  with  her  that  was 
inky  black.  When  Perceval  beheld  that  horse,  he  marvelled,  it 
was  so  great  and  so  well  apparelled.  And  he  leapt  upon  him, 
and  took  no  heed  of  himself.  And  he  thrust  him  with  his  spurs, 
and  within  an  hour  and  le.ss  he  bare  him  four  days'  journey 
thence,  until  he  came  to  a  rough  water,  which  roared,  and  his 
horse  would  have  borne  him  into  it.  And  when  Sir  Perceval 
came  nigh  the  brim,  and  saw  the  water  so  boisterous,  he  doubted 
to  overpass  it.  And  then  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his 
forehead.  When  the  fiend  felt  him  so  charged,  he  shook  off  Sir 
Perceval,  and  went  into  the  water  crying  and  roaring ;  and  it 
seemed  unto  him  that  the  water  burned.  Then  Sir  Perceval 
perceived  it  was  a  fiend  that  would  have  brought  him  unto  his 
perdition.  Then  he  commended  himself  unto  God,  and  prayed 
our  Lord  to  keep  him  from  all  such  temptations ;  and  so  he 
prayed  all  that  night  till  it  was  day.  Then  he  saw  that  he  was 
in  a  wild  place,  that  was  closed  with  the  sea  nigh  all  about. 
And  Sir  Perceval  looked  forth  over  the  sea,  and  saw  a  ship  come 
sailing  towards  him  ;  and  it  came  and  stood  still  under  the  rock. 
And  when  Sir  Perceval  saw  this,  he  hied  him  thither,  and  found 
the  ship  covered  with  silk  ;  and  therein  was  a  lady  of  great 
beauty,  and  clothed  so  richly  that  none  might  be  better. 

And  when  she  saw  Sir  Perceval,  she  saluted  him,  and  Sir  Per- 
ceval returned  her  salutation.  Then  he  asked  her  of  her  coun- 
try and  her  lineage.  And  she  said,  "  I  am  a  gentlewoman  that 
am  disinherited,  and  was  once  the  richest  woman  of  the  world." 
*'  Damsel,"  said  Sir  Perceval,  "who  hath  disinherited  you?  for 
I  have  great  pity  of  you."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "my  enemy  is  a 
great  and  powerful  lord,  and  aforetime  he  made  much  of  me,  so 
that  of  his  favor  and  of  my  beauty  I  had  a  little  pride  more  than 
I  ought  to  have  had.  Also  I  said  a  word  that  pleased  him  not. J 
So  he  drove  me  from  his  company  and  from  mine  heritage.- 
Therefore  1  know  no  good  knight  nor  good  man  but  I  get  him 
on  my  side  if  I  may.  And,  for  that  I  know  that  thou  art  a  good 
knight,  I  beseech  thee  to  help  me." 

Then  Sir  Perceval  promised  her  all  the  help  that  he  mighty 
and  she  thanked  him. 

And  at  that  time  the  weather  was  hot,  and  she  called  to  her  a 
gentlewoman,  and  bade  her  bring  forth  a  pavilion.    And  she  did 


Perceval's  Temptation. 


SIR  PEROEVAL.  l6l 

so,  and  pitched  it  upon  the  gravel.  "  Sir,"  said  she,  **  now  may 
ye  rest  you  in  this  heat  of  the  day."  Then  he  thanked  her,  and 
she  put  off  his  helm  and  his  shield,  and  there  he  slept  a  great 
while.  Then  he  awoke,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  any  meat,  and 
she  said  yea,  and  so  there  was  set  upon  the  table  all  manner  of 
meats  that  he  could  think  on. 

*'  And  while  I  tarried,  every  day  she  set  : 

A  banquet  richer  than  the  day  before 
By  me.      She  stole  upon  my  walk, 
And  calling  me  the  greatest  of  the  knights, 
Embraced  me,  and  so  kissed  me  the  first  time. 
Then  I  remember' d  Arthur's  warning  word, 
That  most  of  us  would  follow  wandering  fires, 
And  the  quest  faded  in  ray  heart." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Also  he  drank  there  the  strongest  wine  that  ever  he  drank,  and 
therewith  he  was  a  little  chafed  more  than  he  ought  to  be.  With 
that  he  beheld  the  lady,  and  he  thought  she  was  the  fairest 
creature  that  ever  he  saw. 

♦*  Anon, 

The  heads  of  all  her  people  drew  to  me,  . 

With  supplication  both  of  knees  and  tongue. 

*  We  have  heard  of  thee  :  thou  art  our  greatest  knight : 

Our  Lady  says  it,  and  we  well  believe  : 

Wed  thou  our  Lady,  and  rule  over  us. 

And  thou  shalt  be  as  Arthur  in  our  land.'  " — The  Holy  Grail. 

And  then  Sir  Perceval  proffered  her  love,  and  prayed  her  that 
she  would  be  his.  Then  she  refused  him  in  a  manner,  for  the 
cause  he  should  be  the  more  ardent  on  her,  and  ever  he  ceased 
not  to  pray  her  of  love.  And  when  she  saw  him  well  enchafed, 
then  she  said,  ''Sir  Perceval,  wit  you  well  I  shall  not  give  ye 
my  love  unless  you  swear  from  henceforth  you  will  be  my  true 
servant,  and  do  no  thing  but  that  I  shall  command  you.  Will 
you  insure  me  this,  as  ye  be  a  true  knight?"  ''Yea,"  said  he, 
"fair  lady,  by  the  faith  of  my  body."  And  as  he  said  this, 
by  adventure  and  grace,  he  saw  his  sword  lie  on  the  ground 
naked,  in  whose  pommel  was  a  red  cross,  and  the  sign  of  the 
crucifix  thereon.  Then  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his 
forehead,  and  therewith  the  pavilion  shrivelled  up,  and  changed 

*4, 


l62 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIQHTS. 


into  a  smoke  and  a  black  cloud.  And  the  damsel  cried  aloud,  and 
hasted  into  the  ship,  and  so  she  went  with  the  wind  roaring  and 
yelling  that  it  seemed  all  the  water  burned  after  her.  Then 
Sir  Perceval  made  great  sorrow,  and  called  himself  a  wretch, 
saying,  "  How  nigh  was  I  lost  I"  Then  he  took  his  arms  and 
departed  thence. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  San'gre-al  (Continued). 

Sir  Bo'hort — Sir  Laun'ce-lot  Resumed — Sir  Gal'a-had. 

Sir  Bo'hort. 

When  Sir  Bohort  departed  from  Camelot  he  met  with  a  re- 
ligious man  riding  upon  an  ass,  and  Sir  Bohort  saUited  him. 
**  What  are  ye?"  said  the  good  man.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort, 
"  I  am  a  knight  that  fain  would  be  counselled  in  the  quest  of  the 
Sangreal."  So  rode  they  both  together  till  they  came  to  a  her- 
mitage, and  there  he  prayed  Sir  Bohort  to  dwell  that  night  with 
him.  So  he  alighted,  and  put  away  his  armor,  and  prayed  him 
that  he  might  be  confessed.  And  they  went  both  into  the  chapel, 
and  there  he  was  clean  confessed.  And  they  ate  bread  and  drank 
water  together.  ''  Now,"  said  the  good  man,  ^'  I  pray  thee  that 
thou  eat  none  other  till  thou  sit  at  the  table  where  the  Sangreal 
shall  be."  ''  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  ''but  how  know  ye  that  I 
shall  sit  there?"  ''Yea,"  said  the  good  man,  "that  I  know 
well ;  but  there  shall  be  few  of  your  fellows  with  you."  Then 
said  Sir  Bohort,  "I  agree  me  thereto."  And  the  good  man, 
when  he  had  heard  his  confession,  found  him  in  so  pure  a  life 
and  so  stable  that  he  marvelled  thereof. 

On  the  morrow,  as  soon  as  the  day  appeared.  Sir  Bohort  de- 
parted thence,  and  rode  into  a  forest  until  the  hour  of  midday. 
And  there  befell  him  a  marvellous  adventure.  For  he  met,  at 
the  parting  of  two  ways,  two  knights  that  led  Sir  Lionel,  his 

(  163  ) 


1 64  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

brother,  all  naked,  bound  upon  a  strong  hackney,  and  his  hands 
bound  before  his  breast;  and  each  of  them  held  in  his  hand 
thorns  wherewith  they  went  beating  him,  so  that  he  was  all  bloody 
before  and  behind  ;  but  he  said  never  a  word,  but,  as  he  was 
great  of  heart,  he  suffered  all  that  they  did  to  him  as  though  he 
had  felt  none  anguish.  Sir  Bohort  prepared  to  rescue  his  brother. 
But  he  looked  on  the  other  side  of  him,  and  saw  a  knight  drag- 
ging along  a  fair  gentlewoman,  who  cried  out,  "Saint  Mary! 
succor  your  maid  !"  And  when  she  saw  Sir  Bohort  she  called  to 
him  ai>d  said,  *'By  the  faith  that  ye  owe  to  knighthood,  help 
me  !"  When  Sir  Bohort  heard  her  say  thus,  he  had  such  sorrow 
that  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  "  For  if  I  let  my  brother  be,  he 
must  be  slain,  and  that  would  I  not  for  all  the  earth  ;  and  if  I 
help  not  the  maid,  I  am  shamed  for  ever."  Then  lift  he  up  his 
eyes  and  said,  weeping,  *'  Fair  Lord,  whose  liegeman  I  am,  keep 
Sir  Lionel,  my  brother,  that  none  of  these  knights  slay  him, 
and  for  pity  of  you,  and  our  Lady's  sake,  I  shall  succor  this 
maid." 

Then  he  cried  out  to  the  knight,  "  Sir  knight,  lay  your  hand 
off  that  maid,  or  else  ye  be  but  dead. "  Then  the  knight  set 
down  the  maid,  and  took  his  shield,  and  drew  out  his  sword. 
And  Sir  Bohort  smote  him  so  hard  that  it  went  through  his  shield 
and  habergeon,  on  the  left  shoulder,  and  he  fell  down  to  the 
earth.  Then  said  Sir  Bohort  to  the  maid,  "Ye  be  delivered 
of  this  knight  this  time."  "  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  pray  you  lead 
me  there  where  this  knight  took  me."  "  I  shall  gladly  do  it," 
said  Sir  Bohort.  So  he  took  the  horse  of  the  wounded  knight 
and  set  the  gentlewoman  upon  it,  and  brought  her  there  where 
she  desired  to  be.  And  there  he  found  twelve  knights  seeking 
after  her ;  and  when  she  told  them  how  Sir  Bohort  had  delivered 
her,  they  made  great  joy,  and  besought  him  to  come  to  her 
father,  a  great  lord,  and  he  should  be  right  welcome.  "  Truly," 
said  Sir  Bohort,  "  that  may  not  be  ;  for  I  have  a  great  adventure 
to  do."     So  he  commended  them  to  God  and  departed. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  rode  after  Sir  Lionel,  his  brother,  by  the  trace 
of  their  horses.  Thus  he  rode  seeking,  a  great  while.  Then  he 
overtook  a  man  clothed  in  a  religious  clothing,  who  said,  "Sir 
knight,  what  seek  ye?"  "Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  I  seek  my 
brother,  that  I  saw  within  a  little  space  beaten  of  two  knights." 


SIR  BOHORT.  165 

*' Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  trouble  not  thyself  to  seek  for  him,  for  truly 
he  is  dead."  Then  he  showed  him  a  new-slain  body,  lying  in  a 
thick  bush ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  the  body  of  Sir 
Lionel.  And  then  he  made  such  sorrow  that  he  fell  to  the 
ground  in  a  swoon,  and  lay  there  long.  And  when  he  came  to 
himself  again,  he  said,  ''Fair  brother,  since  the  fellowship  of 
you  and  me  is  sundered,  shall  I  never  have  joy  again  ;  and  now 
He  that  I  have  taken  for  my  master.  He  be  my  help  ! ' '  And 
when  he  had  said  thus,  he  took  up  the  body  in  his  arms,  and  put 
it  upon  the  horse.  And  then  he  said  to  the  man,  "  Canst  thou 
tell  me  the  way  to  some  chapel,  where  I  may  bury  this  body  ?' ' 
''Come  on,"  said  the  man,  "here  is  one  fast  by."  And  so 
they  rode  till  they  saw  a  fair  tower,  and  beside  it  a  chapel. 
Then  they  alighted  both,  and  put  the  body  into  a  tomb  of 
marble. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  commended  the  good  man  unto  God,  and 
departed.  And  he  rode  all  that  day,  and  harbored  with  an  old 
lady.  And  on  the  morrow  he  rode  unto  a  castle  in  the  valley, 
and  there  he  met  with  a  yeoman.  "  Tell  me,"  said  Sir  Bohort, 
"knowest  thou  of  any  adventure?"  "Sir,"  said  he,  "here 
shall  be,  under  this  castle,  a  great  and  marvellous  tournament." 
Then  Sir  Bohort  thought  to  be  there,  if  he  might  meet  with  any 
of  the  fellowship  that  were  in  quest  of  the  Sangreal ;  so  he 
turned  to  a  hermitage  that  was  on  the  border  of  the  forest.  And 
when  he  was  come  thither,  he  found  there  Sir  Lionel  his  brother, 
who  sat  all  armed  at  the  entry  of  the  chapel  door.  And  when 
Sir  Bohort  saw  him,  he  had  great  joy,  and  he  alighted  off  his 
horse,  and  said,  "Fair  brother,  when  came  ye  hither?"  As 
soon  as  Sir  Lionel  saw  him  he  said,  "Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  make  ye 
no  false  show,  for,  as  for  you,  I  might  have  been  slain,  for  ye 
left  me  in  peril  of  death  to  go  succor  a  gentlewoman ;  and  for 
>that  misdeed  I  now  insure  you  but  death,  for  ye  have  right  well 
deserved  it."  When  Sir  Bohort  perceived  his  brother's  wrath, 
he  kneeled  down  to  the  earth  and  cried  him  mercy,  holding  up 
both  his  hands,  and  prayed  him  to  forgive  him.  "Nay,"  said 
Sir  Lionel,  "thou  shalt  have  but  death  for  it,  if  I  have  the 
upper  hand  ;  therefore  leap  upon  thy  horse  and  keep  thyself,  and 
if  thou  do  not,  I  will  run  upon  thee  there  as  thou  standest  on 
foot,  and  so  the  shame  shall  be  mine,  and  the  harm  thine,  but 


1 66  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

of  that  I  reck  not."  When  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  he  must  fight 
with  his  brother  or  else  die.,  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  Then  his 
heart  counselled  him  not  so  to  do,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Lionel  was 
his  elder  brother,  wherefore  he  ought  to  bear  him  reverence. 
Yet  kneeled  he  down  before  Sir  Lionel's  horse's  feet,  and  said, 
"  Fair  brother,  have  mercy  upon  me  and  slay  me  not."  But  Sir 
Lionel  cared  not,  for  the  fiend  had  brought  him  in  such  a  will 
that  he  should  slay  him.  When  he  saw  that  Sir  Bohort  would 
not  rise  to  give  him  battle,  he  rushed  over  him,  so  that  he  smote 
him  with  his  horse's  feet  to  the  earth,  and  hurt  him  sore,  that  he 
swooned  of  distress.  When  Sir  Lionel  saw  this,  he  alighted 
from  his  horse  for  to  have  smitten  off  his  head ;  and  so  he  took 
him  by  the  helm,  and  would  have  rent  it  from  his  head.  But  it 
happened  that  Sir  Colgrevance,  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table, 
came  at  that  time  thither,  as  it  was  our  Lord's  will ;  and  then 
he  beheld  how  Sir  Lionel  would  have  slain  his  brother,  and  he 
knew  Sir  Bohort,  whom  he  loved  right  well.  Then  leapt  he 
down  from  his  horse,  and  took  Sir  Lionel  by  the  shoulders,  and 
drew  him  strongly  back  from  Sir  Bohort,  and  said,  *'  Sir  Lionel, 
will  ye  slay  your  brother?"  ''Why,"  said  Sir  Lionel,  ''will 
ye  stay  me  ?  If  ye  interfere  in  this,  I  will  slay  you,  and  him 
after."  Then  he  ran  upon  Sir  Bohort,  and  would  have  smitten 
him  ;  but  Sir  Colgrevance  ran  between  them,  and  said,  "  If  ye 
persist  to  do  so  any  more,  we  two  shall  meddle  together. ' '  Then 
Sir  Lionel  defied  him,  and  gave  him  a  great  stroke  through  the 
helm.  Then  he  drew  his  sword,  for  he  was  a  passing  good 
knight,  and  defended  himself  quite  manfully.  So  long  endured 
the  battle,  that  Sir  Bohort  rose  up  all  angaishly,  and  beheld  Sir 
Colgrevance,  the  good  knight,  fight  with  his  brother  for  his 
quarrel.  Then  was  he  full  sorry  and  heavy,  and  thought  that, 
if  Sir  Colgrevance  slew  him  that  was  his  brother,  he  should 
never  have  joy,  and  if  his  brother  slew  Sir  Colgrevance,  the 
shame  should  ever  be  his. 

Then  would  he  have  risen  for  to  have  parted  them,  but  he  had 
not  so  much  strength  to  stand  on  his  feet ;  so  he  staid  so  long 
that  Sir  Colgrevance  had  the  worse,  for  Sir  Lionel  was  of  great 
chivalry  and  right  hardy.  Then  cried  Sir  Colgrevance,  "Ah, 
Sir  Bohort,  why  come  ye  not  to  bring  me  out  of  peril  of  death, 
wherein  I  have  put  me  lo  succor  you?"     With  that,  Sir  Lionel 


SIB  BOHORT.  167 

smote  off  his  helm,  and  bore  him  to  the  earth.  And  when  he 
had  slain  Sir  Colgrevance,  he  ran  upon  his  brother  as  a  fiendly 
man,  and  gave  him  such  a  stroke  that  he  made  him  stoop.  And 
he  that  was  full  of  humility  prayed  him,  ''  For  God's  sake,  leave 
this  battle,  for  if  it  befell,  fair  brother,  that  I  slew  you,  or  ye 
me,  we  should  be  dead  of  that  sin."  *'Pray  ye  not  me  for 
mercy,"  said  Sir  Lionel.  Then  Sir  Bohort,  all  weeping,  drew 
his  sword,  and  said,  ''  Now  God  have  mercy  upon  me,  though  I 
defend  my  life  against  my  brother."  With  that  Sir  Bohort 
lifted  up  his  sword,  and  would  have  stricken  his  brother.  Then 
heard  he  a  voice  that  said,  '^Flee,  Sir  Bohort,  and  touch  him 
not."  Right  so  alighted  a  cloud  between  them,  in  the  likeness 
of  a  fire,  and  a  marvellous  flame,  so  that  they  both  fell  to  the 
earth,  and  lay  there  a  great  while  in  a  swoon.  And  when  they 
came  to  themselves.  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  his  brother  had  no 
harm ;  and  he  was  right  glad,  for  he  dread  sore  that  God  had 
taken  vengeance  upon  him.  Then  Sir  Lionel  said  to  his  brother, 
*' Brother,  forgive  me,  for  God's  sake,  all  that  I  have  trespassed 
against  you."  And  Sir  Bohort  answered,  **  God  forgive  it  thee, 
and  I  do." 

With  that  Sir  Bohort  heard  a  voice  say,  "Sir  Bohort,  take 
thy  way  anon,  right  to  the  sea,  for  Sir  Perceval  abideth  thee 
there. ' '  So  Sir  Bohort  departed,  and  rode  the  nearest  way  to 
the  sea.  And  at  last  he  came  to  an  abbey  that  was  nigh  the  sea. 
That  night  he  rested  him  there,  and  in  his  sleep  there  came  a 
voice  unto  him  and  bade  him  go  to  the  sea-shore.  He  started 
up,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead,  and  armed 
himself,  and  made  ready  his  horse  and  mounted  him,  and  at  a 
broken  wall  he  rode  out,  and  came  to  the  sea -shore.  And  there 
he  found  a  ship,  covered  all  with  white  samite.  And  he  entered 
into  the  ship  ;  but  it  was  anon  so  dark  that  he  might  see  no  man, 
and  he  laid  him  down  and  slept  till  it  was  day.  Then  he  awaked, 
and  saw  in  the  middle  of  the  ship  a  knight  all  armed,  save  his 
helm.  And  then  he  knew  it  was  Sir  Perceval  de  Galis,  and  each 
made  of  other  right  great  joy.  Then  said  Sir  Perceval,  *'We 
lack  nothing  now  but  the  good  knight  Sir  Galahad." 

*'  He  ceased  ;  and  Arthur  turn'd  to  whom  at  first 
He  saw  not,  for  Sir  Bors,  on  entering,  push'd 
Athwart  the  throng  lo  Launcelot,  caught  his  hand, 


1 68  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Held  it,  and  there,  half  hidden  by  him,  stood, 
Until  the  king  espied  him,  saying  to  him, 

*  Hail,  Bors  !  it  ever  loyal  man  and  true 
Could  see  it,  thou  hast  seen  the  Grail,'  and  Bors, 

*  Ask  me  not,  for  I  may  not  speak  of  it, 

I  saw  it :'  and  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes." — The  Holy  Grail 

Sir  Laun'ce-lot,  Resumed. 

It  befell  upon  a  night  Sir  Launcelot  arrived  before  a  castle, 
which  was  rich  and  fair.  And  there  was  a  postern  that  opened 
toward  the  sea,  and  was  open  without  any  keeping,  save  two 
lions  kept  the  entry ;  and  the  moon  shined  clear. 

"  Beheld  the  enchanted  towers  of  Carbonek. 
A  castle  like  a  rock  upon  a  rock. 
With  chasm-like  portals  open  to  the  sea, 
And  steps  that  met  the  breaker  :  there  was  none 
Stood  near  it  but  a  lion  on  each  side, 
That  kept  the  entry,  and  the  moon  was  full. 
Then  from  the  boat  I  leapt,  and  up  the  stairs. 
There  drew  my  sword.     With  sudden  flaring  manes 
Those  two  great  beasts  rose  upright  like  a  man, 
Each  gript  a  shoulder,  and  I  stood  between, 
And,  when  I  would  have  smitten  them,  heard  a  voice, 

*  Doubt  not,  go  forward  ;  if  thou  doubt,  the  beasts 
Will  tear  thee  piecemeal.' "—The  Holy  Grail. 

Anon  Sir  Launcelot  heard  a  voice  that  said,  "Launcelot,  enter 
into  the  castle,  where  thou  shalt  see  a  great  part  of  thy  desire." 
Then  he  made  a  cro?s  on  his  forehead,  and  came  to  the  lions ; 
and  they  made  semblance  to  do  him  harm,  but  he  passed  them 
without  hurt,  and  entered  into  the  castle,  and  he  found  no  gate 
nor  door  but  it  was  open.  But  at  the  last  he  found  a  chamber 
whereof  the  door  was  shut ;  and  he  set  his  hand  thereto,  to  have 
opened  it,  but  he  might  not.  Then  he  listened,  and  heard  a 
voice  which  sung  so  sweetly  that  it  seemed  none  earthly  thing  ; 
and  the  voice  said, 

"  Glory  and  joy  and  honor  to  our  Lord 
And  to  the  Holy  Vessel  of  the  Grail." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down  before  the  chamber,  for  well 
he  wist  that  there  was  the  Sangreal  in  that  chamber.  Then  said 
he,  "Fair,  sweet  Lord,  if  ever  I  did  anything  that  pleased  thee, 
for  thy  pity  show  me  something  of  that  which  I  seek. ' '     And 


Sir  Launcelot  before  the  Door. 


SIR  LAUNCELOT.  169 

with  that  he  saw  the  chamber  door  open,  and  there  came  out  a 
great  clearness,  that  the  house  was  as  bright  as  though  all  the 
torches  of  the  world  had  been  there.  So  he  came  to  the  chamber 
door,  and  would  have  entered  ;  and  anon  a  voice  said  unto  him, 
''Stay,  Sir  Launcelot,  and  enter  not."  And  he  withdrew  him 
back,  and  was  right  heavy  in  his  mind.  Then  looked  he  in  the 
midst  of  the  chamber,  and  saw  a  table  of  silver,  and  the  holy 
vessel,  covered  with  red  samite,  and  many  angels  about  it ; 
whereof  one  held  a  candle  of  wax  burning,  and  another  held  a 
cross,  and  the  ornaments  of  the  altar. 

"  O,  yet  methought  I  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
All  pall'd  in  crimson  samite,  and  around 
Great  angels,  awful  shapes,  and  wings  and  eyes." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Then,  for  very  wonder  and  thankfulness.  Sir  Launcelot  forgot 
himself,  and  he  stepped  forward  and  entered  the  chamber.  And 
suddenly  a  breath  that  seemed  intermixed  with  fire  smote  him  so 
sore  in  the  visage,  that  therewith  he  fell  to  the  ground,  and  had 
no  power  to  rise. 

'*  Then  in  my  madness  I  essay' d  the  door : 
It  gave,  and  thro'  a  stormy  glare,  a  heat 
As  from  a  seven -times -heated  furnace,  I, 
Blasted  and  burnt,  and  blinded  as  I  was, 
With  such  a  fierceness  that  I  swoon' d  away." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Then  felt  he  many  hands  about  him,  which  took  him  up,  and 
bare  him  out  of  the  chamber,  without  any  amending  of  his 
swoon,  and  left  him  there,  seeming  dead  to  all  the  people.  So 
on  the  morrow,  when  it  was  fair  daylight,  and  they  within  were 
arisen,  they  found  Sir  Launcelot  before  the  chamber  door.  And 
they  looked  upon  him  and  felt  his  pulse,  to  know  if  there  were 
any  life  in  him.  And  they  found  life  in  him,  but  he  might 
neither  stand  nor  stir  any  member  that  he  had.  So  they  took 
him  and  bare  him  into  a  chamber,  and  laid  him  upon  a  bed,  far 
from  all  folk,  and  there  he  lay  many  days.  Then  the  one  said 
he  was  alive,  and  others  said  nay.  But  said  an  old  man,  "  He 
is  as  full  of  life  as  the  mightiest  of  you  all,  and  therefore  I 
counsel  you  that  he  be  well  kept  till  God  bring  him  back  again." 
And  after  twenty-four  days  he  opened  his  eyes  ;  and  when  he 


I/O  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

saw  folk,  he  made  great  sorrow,  and  said,  "Why  have  ye 
wakened  me  ?  for  I  was  better  at  ease  than  I  am  now."  **  What 
have  ye  seen  ?"  said  they  about  him.  **  I  have  seen,"  said  he, 
*' great  marvels  that  no  tongue  can  tell,  and  more  than  any  heart 
can  think."  Then  they  said,  **Sir,  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal 
is  achieved  right  now  in  you,  and  never  shall  ye  see  more  of  it 
than  ye  have  seen."  '*  I  thank  God,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "of 
his  great  mercy,  for  that  I  have  seen,  for  it  sufficeth  me. ' '  Then 
he  rose  up  and  clothed  himself;  and  when  he  was  so  arrayed, 
they  marvelled  all,  for  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot  the  good 
knight.  And  after  four  days  he  took  his  leave  of  the  lord  of 
the  castle,  and  of  all  the  fellowship  that  were  there,  and  thanked 
them  for  their  great  labor  and  care  of  him.  Then  he  departed, 
and  turned  to  Camelot,  where  he  found  King  Arthur  and  Queen 
Guinevere ;  but  many  of  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  were 
slain  and  destroyed,  more  than  half.  Then  all  the  court  was 
passing  glad  of  Sir  Launcelot ;  and  he  told  the  king  all  his  ad- 
ventures that  had  befallen  him  since  he  departed. 

"  But  what  I  saw  was  veil'd 
And  cover' d  ;  and  this  quest  was  not  for  me." 

Sir  Gal'a-had. 

Now,  when  Sir  Galahad  had  rescued  Perceval  from  the  twenty 
knights,  he  rode  into  a  vast  forest,  wherein  he  abode  many  days. 
Then  he  took  his  way  to  the  sea,  and  it  befell  him  that  he  was 
benighted  in  a  hermitage.  And  the  good  man  was  glad  when 
he  saw  he  was  a  knight-errant.  And  when  they  were  at  rest, 
there  came  a  gentlewoman  knocking  at  the  door  ;  and  the  good 
man  came  to  the  door  to  wit  what  she  would.  Then  she  said, 
* '  I  would  speak  with  the  knight  which  is  with  you. ' '  Then 
Galahad  went  to  her,  and  asked  her  what  she  would.  "Sir 
Galahad,"  said  she,  "I  will  that  ye  arm  you,  and  mount  upon 
your  horse,  and  follow  me ;  for  I  will  show  you  the  highest  ad- 
venture that  ever  knight  saw."  Then  Sir  Galahad  armed  him- 
self and  commended  himself  to  God,  and  bade  the  damsel  go 
before,  and  he  would  follow  where  she  led. 

* '  A  maiden  knight — to  me  is  given 
Such  hope,  I  know  not  fear  ; 
I  yearn  to  breathe  the  airs  of  heaven 
That  often  meet  me  here. 


SIB  GALAHAD,  I71 

I  muse  on  joy  that  will  not  cease, 

Pure  spaces  clothed  in  living  beams." — Sir  Galahad. 

So  she  rode  as  fast  as  her  palfrey  might  bear  her,  till  she  came 
to  the  sea  ;  and  there  they  found  the  ship  where  Sir  Bohort  and 
Sir  Perceval  were,  who  cried  from  the  ship,  '*Sir  Galahad,  you 
are  welcome  ;  we  have  awaited  you  long."  And  when  he  heard 
them,  he  asked  the  damsel  who  they  were.  **Sir,"  said  she, 
*Meave  your  horse  here,  and  I  shall  leave  mine,  and  we  will 
join  ourselves  to  their  company."  So  they  entered  into  the 
ship,  and  the  two  knights  received  them  both  with  great  joy. 

**  Sometimes  on  lonely  mountain-meres 

I  find  a  magic  bark  ; 
I  leap  on  board  :  no  helmsman  steers  : 

I  float  till  all  is  dark. 
A  gentle  sound,  an  awful  light ! 

Three  angels  bear  the  Holy  Grail  : 
With  folded  feet,  in  stoles  of  white. 

On  sleeping  wings  they  sail. 
Ah,  blessed  vision  !  blood  of  God ! 

My  spirit  beats  her  mortal  bars. 
As  down  dark  tides  the  glory  slides, 

And  star-like  mingles  with  the  stars." — Sir  Galahad. 

For  they  knew  the  damsel,  that  she  was  Sir  Perceval's  sister. 
Then  the  wind  arose  and  drove  them  through  the  sea  all  that 
day  and  the  next,  till  the  ship  arrived  between  two  rocks,  pass- 
ing great  and  marvellous ;  but  there  they  might  not  land,  for 
there  was  a  whirlpool ;  but  there  was  another  ship,  and  upon  it 
they  might  go  without  danger.  ''Go  we  thither,"  said  the 
gentlewoman,  ''and  there  shall  we  see  adventures,  for  such  is  our 
Lord's  will."  Then  Sir  Galahad  blessed  him,  and  entered 
therein,  and  then  next  the  gentlewoman,  and  then  Sir  Bohort 
and  Sir  Perceval.  And  when  they  came  on  board,  they  found 
there  the  table  of  silver,  and  the  Sangreal,  which  was  covered 
with  red  samite.  And  they  made  great  reverence  thereto,  and 
Sir  Galahad  prayed  a  long  time  to  our  Lord,  that  at  what  time 
he  should  ask  to  pass  out  of  this  world,  he  should  do  so  ;  and  a 
voice  said  to  him,  "  Galahad,  thou  shalt  have  thy  request  ■  and 
when  thou  askest  the  death  of  thy  body,  thou  shalt  have  it,  and 
then  shalt  thou  find  the  life  of  thy  soul." 

And  anon  the  wind  drove  them  across  the  sea,  till  they  canie 


172  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

to  the  city  of  Sarras.  Then  took  they  out  of  the  ship  the  table 
of  silver,  and  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort  took  it  before,  and 
Sir  Galahad  came  behind,  and  right  so  chey  went  to  the  city. 
And  at  the  gate  of  the  city  they  saw  an  old  man,  a  cripple. 

"  And  Sir  Launfal  said,  '  I  behold  in  thee 
An  image  of  Him  who  died  on  the  tree. 
Thou  also  hast  had  thy  crown  of  thorns, 
Thou  also  hast  had  the  world' s  buffets  and  scorns ; 
And  to  thy  life  were  not  denied 
The  wounds  in  thy  hands  and  feet  and  side. 
Mild  Mary's  son,  acknowledge  me  ; 
Behold,  through  Him  I  give  to  thee  !'  " 

— Lowell's  Holy  Grail. 

Then  Galahad  called  him,  and  bade  him  help  to  bear  this 
heavy  thing.  **  Truly,"  said  the  old  man,  ''it  is  ten  years 
since  I  could  not  go  but  with  crutches."  ''Care  thou  not," 
said  Sir  Galahad,  "but  arise  up,  and  show  thy  good  will." 
Then  the  old  man  rose  up,  and  assayed,  and  found  himself  as 
whole  as  ever  he  was ;  and  he  ran  to  the  table,  and  took  one 
part  with  Sir  Galahad. 

When  they  came  to  the  city,  it  chanced  that  the  king  was  just 
dead,  and  all  the  city  was  dismayed,  and  wist  not  who  might  be 
their  king.  Right  so,  as  they  were  in  council,  there  came  a  voice 
among  them,  and  bade  them  choose  the  youngest  knight  of  those 
three  to  be  their  king.  So  they  made  Sir  Galahad  king,  by  all 
the  assent  of  the  city.  And  when  he  was  made  king,  he  com- 
manded to  make  a  chest  of  gold  and  of  precious  stones,  to  hold 
the  holy  vessel.  And  every  day  the  three  companions  would 
come  before  it,  and  make  their  prayers. 

Now,  at  the  year's  end,  and  the  same  day  of  the  year  that  Sir 
Galahad  received  the  crown,  he  got  up  early,  and,  with  his  fel- 
lows, came  to  where  the  holy  vessel  was  ;  and  they  saw  one 
kneeling  before  it  that  had  about  him  a  great  fellowship  of 
angels;  and  he  called  Sir  Galahad,  and  said,  "Come,  thou 
servant  of  the  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  see  what  thou  hast  much 
desired  to  see."  And  Sir  Galahad's  mortal  flesh  trembled  right 
hard  when  he  began  to  behold  the  spiritual  things.  Then  said 
the  good  man,  "  Now  wottest  thou  who  I  am?"  "  Nay,"  said 
Sir  Galahad.      "  I  am  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  whom   our  Lord 


^/Jf2  GALAHAD.  1 73 

hath  sent  here  to  thee,  to  bear  thee  fellowship."  Then  Sii 
Galahad  held  up  his  hands  toward  heaven,  and  said,  ''Now, 
blessed  Lord,  would  I  not  longer  live,  if  it  might  please  thee. ' ' 
And  when  he  had  said  these  words,  Sir  Galahad  went  to  Sir 
Perceval  and  to  Sir  Bohort,  and  kissed  them,  and  commended 
them  to  God.  And  then  he  kneeled  down  before  the  table,  and 
made  his  prayers,  and  suddenly  his  soul  departed,  and  a  great 
multitude  of  angels  bare  his  soul  up  to  heaven,  so  as  the  two 
fellows  could  well  behold  it.  Also  they  saw  come  from  heaven 
a  hand,  but  they  saw  not  the  body ;  and  the  hand  came  right  to 
the  vessel  and  bare  it  up  to  heaven. 

*•  At  once  I  saw  him  far  on  the  great  sea, 

In  silver-shining  armor  s'arry-clear  ; 

And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 

Clothed  in  white  samite  or  a  luminous  cloud. 

And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 

Redder  than  any  rose,  a  joy  to  me, 

For  now  I  knew  the  veil  had  been  withdrawn. 
.  Then  in  a  moment  when  they  blazed  again 

Opening,  I  saw  the  least  of  little  stars 

Down  on  the  waste,  and  straight  beyond  the  star 

I  saw  the  spiritual  city  and  all  her  spires 

And  gateways  in  a  glory  like  one  pearl. 

No  larger,  tho'  the  goal  of  all  the  saints, 

Strike  from  the  sea  ;  and  from  the  star  there  shot 

A  rose-red  sparkle  to  the  city,  and  there 

Dwelt,  and  I  knew  it  was  the  Holy  Grail, 

Which  never  eyes  on  earth  again  shall  see." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Since  then  was  there  never  one  so  hardy  as  to  Fay  that  he  had 
seen  the  Sangreal  on  earth  any  more. 

The  king  listened  to  the  various  recitals  of  his  knights,  and 
commended  all  save  Sir  Gawain,  who  had  no  desire  to  see. 

«*  But  if  indeed  there  came  a  sign  from  heaven, 
Blessed  are  Bors,  Launcelot,  and  Perceval, 
For  these  have  seen  according  to  their  sight. 
For  every  fiery  prophet  in  old  times. 
And  all  the  sacred  madness  of  the  bard. 
When  God  made  music  thro'  them,  could  but  speak 
His  music  by  the  framework  and  the  chord. 
And  as  ye  saw  it  ye  have  spoken  truth." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
Sir  Agfri-vain's  Treason— Plot  of  Sir  Mod'red. 

Sir  Ag'ri-vain's  Treason. 

When  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort  saw  Sir  Galahad  dead,  they 
made  as  much  sorrow  as  ever  did  two  men.  And  if  they  had 
not  been  good  men  they  might  have  fallen  into  despair.  As  soon 
as  Sir  Galahad  was  buried,  Sir  Perceval  retired  to  a  hermitage 
out  of  the  city  and  took  a  religious  clothing,  and  Sir  Bohort  was 
always  with  him.  Thus  a  year  and  two  months  lived  Sir  Perce- 
val in  the  hermitage  a  full  holy  life,  and  then  passed  out  of  this 
world,  and  Sir  Bohort  buried  him  by  his  sister  and  Sir  Galahad. 
Then  Sir  Bohort  armed  himself  and  departed  from  Sarras,  and 
entered  into  a  ship,  and  sailed  to  the  kingdom  of  Loegria,  and 
in  due  time  arrived  safe  at  Camelot,  where  the  king  was.  Then 
was  there  great  joy  made  of  him  in  the  whole  court,  for  they 
feared  he  had  been  dead.  Then  the  king  made  great  clerks  to 
come  before  him,  that  they  should  chronicle  of  the  high  adven- 
tures of  the  good  knights.  And  Sir  Bohort  told  hmi  of  the  ad- 
ventures that  had  befallen  him  and  his  two  fellows,  Sir  Perceval 
and  Sir  Galahad.  And  Sir  Launcelot  told  the  adventures  of  the 
Sangreal  that  he  had  seen.  All  this  was  made  in  great  books, 
and  put  up  in  the  church  at  Salisbury. 

So  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guinevere  made  great  joy  of  the 
remnant  that  were  come  home,  and  chiefly  of  Sir  Launcelot  and 
Sir  Bohort.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  began  to  resort  unto  Queen 
Guinevere  again,  and  forgot  the  promise  that  he  made  in  the 
quest ;  so  that  many  in  the  court  spoke  of  it,  and  in  especial  Sir 
(174) 


Modred  on  the  Watch. 


PLOT  OF  SIR  MODRED.  1 75 

Agrivain,  Sir  Gawain's  brother,  for  he  was  ever  open-mouthed. 
So  it  happened  Sir  Gawain  and  all  his  brothers  were  in  King 
Arthur's  chamber,  and  then  Sir  Agrivain  said  thus  openly,  ''I 
marvel  that  we  all  are  not  ashamed  to  see  and  to  know  so  noble 
a  knight  as  King  Arthur  so  to  be  shamed  by  the  conduct  of  Sir 
Launcelot  and  the  queen."  Then  spoke  Sir  Gawain,  and  said, 
''Brother,  Sir  Agrivain,  I  pray  you  and  charge  you  move  not 
such  matters  any  more  before  me,  for  be  ye  atsured  I  will  not  be 
of  your  counsel."  '' Neither  will  we,"  said  Sir  Gaheris  and 
Sir  Gareth.  "Then  will  I,"  said  Sir  Modred.  *'  I  doubt  you 
not,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''  for  to  all  mischief  ever  were  ye  prone ; 
yet  I  would  that  ye  left  all   this,  for  I  know  what  will  come 

of  it." 

"  Modred' s  narrow  foxy  face, 
Heart-hiding  smile,  and  gray  persistent  eye  : 
Henceforward,  too,  the  Powers  that  tend  the  soul, 
To  help  it  from  the  death  that  cannot  die, 
And  save  it  even  in  extremes,  began 
To  vex  and  plague." — Guinevere. 

**Fall  of  it  what  fall  may,"  said  Sir  Agrivain,  ''I  will  disclose 
it  to  the  king.".  With  that  came  to  them  King  Arthur.  *'  Now, 
brothers,  hold  your  peace,"  said  Sir  Gawain.  "We  will  not," 
said  Sir  Agrivain.  Then  said  Sir  Gav\^ain,  "  I  will  not  hear  your 
tales,  nor  be  of  your  counsel."  "No  more  will  I,"  said  Sir 
Gareth  and  Sir  GahCiis,  and  therewith  they  departed,  making 
great  sorrow. 

Plot  of  Sir  Mod'red. 

Then  Sir  Agrivain  told  the  king  all  that  was  said  in  the  court 
of  the  conduct  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  queen,  and  it  grieved 
the  king  very  much.  But  he  would  not  believe  it  to  be  true 
without  proof.  So  Sir  Agrivain  laid  a  plot  to  entrap  Sir  Laun- 
celot and  the  queen,  intending  to  take  them  together  unawares  : 

*'  Thus  Modred,  still  in  green,  all  ear  and  eye, 
Climbed  to  the  high  top  of  the  garden  wall 
To  spy  some  secret  scandal  if  he  might." — Guinevere. 

Sir  Agrivain  and  Sir  Modred  led  a  party  for  this  purpose,  but 
Sir  Launcelot  escaped  from  them,  having  slain  Sir  Agrivain  and 
wounded  Sir  Modred. 


176  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

The  conspiracy  against  the  queen  had  finally  triumphed,  and 
the  king  could  no  longer  doubt  of  her  guilt.  And  the  law  was 
such  in  those  days  that  they  who  committed  such  crimes,  of  what 
estate  or  condition  soever  they  were,  must  be  burned  to  death, 
and  so  it  was  ordained  for  Queen  Guinevere.  Then  said  King 
Arthur  to  Sir  Gawain,  *'  I  pray  you  make  you  ready,  in  your  best 
armor,  with  your  brethren.  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth,  to  bring 
my  queen  to  the  fire,  there  to  receive  her  death."  *'Nay,  my 
most  noble  lord,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  *Uhat  will  I  never  do;  for 
know  thou  well  my  heart  will  never  serve  me  to  see  her  die,  and 
it  shall  never  be  said  that  I  was  of  your  counsel  in  her  death." 
Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth  to  be 
there,  and  they  said,  *'  We  will  be  there,  as  ye  command  us,  sire, 
but  in  peaceable  wise,  and  bear  no  armor  upon  us. ' ' 

So  the  queen  was  led  forth,  and  her  ghostly  father  was  brought 
to  her  to  shrive  her,  and  there  was  weeping  and  wailing  of  many 
lords  and  ladies.  Returning  to  Launcelot  at  the  time  of  his  de- 
tection, he  fled  from  the  castle  and  took  refuge  in  the  forest. 
There  he  gathered  a  company  of  friends,  and  sent  spies  to  the 
castle  that  he  might  know  the  movements  of  the  king.  One 
brought  him  word  that  the  queen  was  being  led  forth  to  her 
death.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  knights  that  were  with  him 
fell  upon  the  troop  that  guarded  the  queen  and  dispersed  them, 
and  slew  all  who  withstood  them.  And  in  the  confusion  Sir 
Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris  were  slain,  for  they  were  unarmed  and 
defenceless.  And  Sir  Launcelot  carried  away  the  queen  to  his 
castle  of  La  Joyeuse  Garde. 

There  his  old  enemy  Sir  Modred  sought  him  out  • 

*'  And  Modred  brought 
His  creatures  to  the  basement  of  the  tower 
For  testimony  ;  and  crying  with  full  voice, 
♦  Traitor,  come  out,  ye  are  trapt  at  last,'  aroused 
Launcelot,  who  rushing  outward  lion-like 
Leapt  on  him,  and  hurl'd  him  headlong,  and  he  fell 
Stunn'd,  and  his  creatures  took  and  bare  him  off 
And  all  was  still :  then  she,  '  The  end  is  come 
And  I  am  shamed  forever  :'  and  he  said, 
'  Mine  be  the  shame  :  mine  was  the  sin  ;  but  rise, 
And  fly  to  my  strong  castle  over  seas  ; 
There  will  I  hide  thee,  till  my  life  shall  end, 
There  hold  thee  with  my  life  against  the  world.'  " — Guinevere, 


PLOT  OF  SIB  MODRED.  lyy 

Then  there  came  one  to  Sir  Gawain  and  told  him  how  that 
Sir  Launcelot  had  slain  the  knights  and  carried  away  the  queen. 
**0  Lord,  defend  my  brethren  ! "  said  Sir  Gawain.  '*  Truly," 
said  the  man,  "Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris  are  slain." 
*'Alas!"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "now  is  my  joy  gone."  And 
then  he  fell  down  and  swooned,  and  long  he  lay  there  as  he  had 
been  dead. 

When  he  arose  out  of  his  swoon,  Sir  Gawain  ran  to  the  king, 
crying,  "O  King  Arthur,  mine  uncle,  my  brothers  are  slain." 
Then  the  king  wept  and  he  both.  "My  king,  my  lord,  and 
mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "bear  witness  now  that  I  make 
you  a  promise  that  I  shall  hold  by  my  knighthood,  that  from  this 
day  I  will  never  fail  Sir  Launcelot  until  the  one  of  us  have  slain 
the  other.  I  will  seek  Sir  Launcelot  throughout  seven  kings' 
realms,  but  I  shall  slay  him  or  he  shall  slay  me."  "Ye  shall 
not  need  to  seek  him,"  said  the  king,  "  for  as  I  hear,  Sir  Laun- 
celot will  abide  me  and  you  in  the  Joyeuse  Garde ;  and  much 
people  draweth  unto  him,  as  I  hear  say."  "That  may  I  be- 
lieve," said  Sir  Gawain;  "but,  my  lord,  summon  your  friends, 
and  I  will  summon  mine."  "  It  shall  be  done,"  said  the  king. 
So  then  the  king  sent  letters  and  writs  throughout  all  England, 
both  in  the  length  and  breadth,  to  summon  all  his  knights.  And 
unto  Arthur  drew  many  knights,  dukes  and  earls,  so  that  he  had 
a  great  host.  Thereof  heard  Sir  Launcelot,  and  collected  all 
whom  he  could  ;  and  many  good  knights  held  with  him,  both 
for  his  sake  and  for  the  queen's  sake.  But  King  Arthur's  host 
was  too  great  for  Sir  Launcelot  to  abide  him  in  the  field,  and  he 
was  full  loath  to  do  battle  against  the  king.  So  Sir  Launcelot 
drew  him  to  his  strong  castle,  with  all  manner  of  provisions. 
Then  came  King  Arthur  with  Sir  Gawain,  and  laid  siege  all  about 
La  Joyeuse  Garde,  both  the  town  and  the  castle ;  but  in  no  wise 
would  Sir  Launcelot  ride  out  of  his  castle,  neither  suffer  any  of 
his  knights  to  issue  out  until  many  weeks  were  past. 

Then  it  befell  upon  a  day  in  harvest-time,  Sir  Launcelot 
looked  over  the  wall,  and  spoke  aloud  to  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Gawain,  "  My  lords  both,  all  is  in  vain  that  ye  do  at  this  siege, 
for  here  ye  shall  win  no  worship,  but  only  dishonor ;  for  if  I 
list  to  come  out,  and  my  good  knights,  I  shall  soon  make  an  end 
of  this  war."      "Come  forth,"  said  Arthur,  "if  thou  darest, 


178  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

and  I  promise  thee  I  shall  meet  thee  in  the  midst  of  the  field,'* 
''God  forbid  me,"  said  Sir  Launcelot. 

•  *  May  God  forbid 
That  I  should  slay  the  king  who  made  me  knight." 

"Fie  upon  thy  fair  language,"  said  the  king,  ''for  know  thou 
well  I  am  thy  mortal  foe,  and  ever  will  be  to  my  dying  day." 
And  Sir  Gawain  said,  "  What  cause  hadst  thou  to  slay  my  brother, 
Sir  Gaheris,  who  bore  no  arms  against  thee,  and  Sir  Gareth, 
whom  thou  madest  knight,  and  who  loved  thee  more  than  all  my 
kin  ?  Therefore  know  thou  well  I  shall  make  war  to  thee  all  the 
while  that  I  may  live." 

When  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Lionel 
heard  this  outcry,  they  called  to  them  Sir  Palamedes,  and  Sir 
Saffire  his  brother,  and  Sir  La  way  n,  with  many  more,  and  all  went 
to  Sir  Launcelot.  And  they  said,  "My  lord.  Sir  Launcelot, 
we  pray  you,  if  you  will  have  our  service,  keep  us  no  longer 
within  these  walls,  for  know  well  all  your  fair  speech  and  for- 
bearance will  not  avail  you."  ."Alas!"  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
"to  ride  forth  and  to  do  battle  I  am  full  loath."  Then  he 
spake  again  unto  the  king  and  Sir  Gawain,  and  willed  them  to 
keep  out  of  the  battle  ;  but  they  despised  his  words.  So  then 
Sir  Launcelot' s  fellowshi*p  came  out  of  the  castle,  in  full  good 
array.  And  always  Sir  Launcelot  charged  all  his  knights,  in  any 
wise,  to  save  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain. 

Then  came  forth  Sir  Gawain  from  the  king's  host,  and  offered 
combat,  and  Sir  Lionel  encountered  with  him,  and  there  Sir 
Gawain  smote  Sir  Lionel  through  the  body,  that  he  fell  to  the  earth 
as  if  dead.  Then  there  began  a  great  conflict,  and  much  people 
were  slain  ;  but  ever  Sir  Launcelot  did  what  he  might  to  save 
the  people  on  King  Arthur's  party,  and  ever  King  Arthur  fol- 
lowed Sir  Launcelot  to  slay  him  ;  but  Sir  Launcelot  suffered  him, 
and  would  not  strike  again.  Then  Sir  Bohort  encountered  with 
King  Arthur,  and  smote  him  down ;  and  he  alighted  and  drew 
his  sword,  and  said  to  Sir  Launcelot,  "  Shall  I  make  an  end  of 
this  war  ?' '  for  he  meant  to  have  slain  King  Arthur.  ' '  Not  so," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "touch  him  no  more,  for  I  will  never  see 
that  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight  either  slain  or  shamed ;" 
and  therewith  Sir  Launcelot  alighted  off  his  horse,  and  took  up 
the  king,   and  horsed  him  again,   and  said  thus:     "My  lord 


PLOT  OF  SIR  MODRED.  1 79 

Arthur,  for  God's  love  cease  this  strife."  And  King  Arthur 
looi^ed  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  tears  burst  from  his  eyes, 
thinking  on  the  great  courtesy  that  was  in  Sir  Launcelot  more 
than  in  any  other  man ;  and  therewith  the  king  rode  his  way. 
Then  anon  both  parties  withdrew  to  repose  them,  and  buried 
the  dead. 

But  the  war  continued,  and  it  was  noised  abroad  through  all 
Christendom,  and  at  last  it  was  told  afore  the  pope  ;  and  he,  con- 
sidering the  great  goodness  of  King  Arthur,  and  of  Sir  Launcelot, 
called  unto  him  a  noble  clerk,  which  was  the  Bishop  of  Rochester, 
who  was  then  in  his  dominions,  and  sent  him  to  King  Arthur, 
charging  him  that  he  take  his  queen,  dame  Guinevere,  unto  him 
again,  and  make  peace  with  Sir  Launcelot. 

So,  by  means  of  this  bishop,  peace  was  made  for  the  space  of 
one  year ;  and  King  Arthur  received  back  the  queen,  and  Sir 
Launcelot  departed  from  the  kingdom  with  all  his  knights,  and 
went  to  his  own  country.  So  they  shipped  at  Cardiff,  and  sailed 
unto  Benwick,  which  some  men  call  Bayonne.  And  all  the  peo- 
ple of  those  lands  came  to  Sir  Launcelot,  and  received  him  home 
right  joyfully.  And  Sir  Launcelot  stablished  and  garnished  all 
his  towns  and  castles,  and  he  greatly  advanced  all  his  noble 
knights.  Sir  Lionel  and  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys, 
Sir  Blamor,  Sir  Lawayne,  and  many  others,  and  made  them 
lords  of  lands  and  castles  ;  till  he  left  himself  no  more  than  any 
one  of  them. 

The  semblance  of  the  old  times  were  restored  for  a  whole  year. 

*'  Then  Arthur  made  vast  banquets,  and  strange  knights 
From  the  four  winds  came  in  :  and  each  one  sat, 
Tho'  served  with  choice  from  air,  land,  stream  and  sea. 
Oft  in  mid- banquet  measuring  with  his  eyes 
His  neighbor's  make  and  might." — Pelleas  and  Ettarre. 

But  when  the  year  was  passed.  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain 
came  with  a  great  host,  and  landed  upon  Sir  Launcelot' s  lands, 
and  burnt  and  wasted  all  that  they  might  overrun.  Then  spake 
Sir  Bohort  and  said,  ''  My  lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  give  us  leave  to 
meet  them  in  the  field,  and  we  shall  make  them  rue  the  time 
that  ever  they  came  to  this  country."  Then  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
"I  am  full  loath  to  ride  out  with  my  knights  for  shedding  of 
Christian  blood ;  so  we  will  yet  awhile  keep  our  walls,  and  I 


l8o  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

will  send  a  messenger  unto  my  lord  Arthur,  to  propose  a  treaty ; 
for  better  is  peace  than  always  war."  So  Sir  Launcelot  sent 
forth  a  damsel,  and  a  dwarf  with  her,  requiring  King  Arthur  to 
leave  his  warring  upon  his  lands  ;  and  so  she  started  on  a  palfrey, 
and  the  dwarf  ran  by  her  side.  And  when  she  came  to  the 
pavilion  of  King  Arthur,  she  alighted,  and  there  met  her  a  gentle 
knight,  Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and  said,  "Fair  damsel,  come  ye 
from  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac?"  **Yea,  sir,"  she  said,  "I  come 
hither  to  speak  with  the  king."  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Lucan, 
"  My  lord  Arthur  would  be  reconciled  to  Sir  Launcelot,  but  Sir 
Gawain  will  not  suffer  him."  And  with  this.  Sir  Lucan  led  the 
damsel  to  the  king,  where  he  sat  with  Sir  Gawain,  to  hear  what 
she  would  say.  So  when  she  had  told  her  tale,  the  tears  ran  out 
of  the  king's  eyes  ;  and  all  the  lords  were  forward  to  advise  the 
king  to  be  accorded  with  Sir  Launcelot,  save  only  Sir  Gawain ; 
and  he  said,  "  My  lord,  mine  uncle,  what  will  ye  do?  Will  you 
now  turn  back,  now  you  are  so  advanced  upon  your  journey? 
If  ye  do,  all  the  world  will  speak  shame  of  you."  "  Nay,"  said 
King  Arthur,  "  I  will  do  as  ye  advise  me  ;  but  do  thou  give  the 
damsel  her  answer,  for  I  may  not  speak  to  her  for  pity. ' ' 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  "Damsel,  say  ye  to  Sir  Launcelot, 
that  it  is  waste  labor  to  sue  to  mine  uncle  for  peace,  and  say 
that  I,  Sir  Gawain,  send  him  word  that  I  promise  him,  by  the 
faith  I  owe  unto  God  and  to  knighthood,  I  shall  never  leave  him 
till  he  have  slain  me  or  I  him."  So  the  damsel  returned ;  and 
when  Sir  Launcelot  had  heard  this  answer,  the  tears  ran  down 
his  cheeks. 

Then  it  befell  on  a  day  Sir  Gawain  came  before  the  gates, 
armed  at  all  points,  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Where  art  thou 
now,  thou  false  traitor,  Sir  Launcelot  ?  Why  hidest  thou  thyself 
within  holes  and  walls,  like  a  coward?  Look  out  now,  thou 
traitor  knight,  and  I  will  avenge  upon  thy  body  the  death  of  my 
three  brethren."  All  this  language  heard  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
the  knights  which  were  about  him  ;  and  they  said  to  him,  "  Sir 
Launcelot,  now  must  ye  defend  you  like  a  knight,  or  else  be 
shamed  for  ever,  for  you  have  slept  overlong  and  suffered  over- 
much. ' '  Then  Sir  Launcelot  spake  on  high  unto  King  Arthur,  and 
said,  "  My  lord  Arthur,  now  I  have  forborne  long,  and  suffered 
you  and  Sir  Gawain  to  do  what  ye  would,  and  now  must  I  needs 


PLOT  OF  SIB  MODRED.  1 8 1 

defend  myself,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Gawain  hath  appealed  me  of 
treason."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  armed  him  and  mounted  upon 
his  horse,  and  the  noble  knights  came  out  of  the  city,  and  the 
host  without  stood  all  apart ;  and  so  the  covenant  was  made  that 
no  man  should  come  near  the  two  knights,  nor  deal  with  them, 
till  one  were  dead  or  yielded. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Gawain  departed  a  great  way 
asunder,  and  then  they  came  together  with  all  their  horses* 
might,  and  each  smote  the  other  in  the  middle  of  their  shields, 
but  neither  of  them  was  unhorsed,  but  their  horses  fell  to  the 
earth.  And  then  they  leapt  from  their  horses,  and  drew  their 
swords,  and  gave  many  sad  strokes,  so  that  the  blood  burst  out 
in  many  places.  Now  Sir  Gawain  had  this  gift  from  a  holy  man, 
that  every  day  in  the  year,  from  morning  to  noon,  his  strength 
was  increased  threefold,  and  then  it  fell  again  to  its  natural 
measure.  Sir  Launcelot  was  aware  of  this,  and  therefore,  during 
the  three  hours  that  Sir  Gawain' s  strength  was  at  the  height.  Sir 
Launcelot  covered  himself  with  his  shield,  and  kept  his  might  in 
reserve.  And  during  that  time  Sir  Gawain  gave  him  many  sad 
brunts,  that  all  the  knights  that  looked  on  marvelled  how  Sir 
Launcelot  might  endure  them.  Then,  when  it  was  past  noon, 
Sir  Gawain  had  only  his  own  might ;  and  when  Sir  Launcelot 
felt  him  so  brought  down,  he  stretched  himself  up,  and  doubled 
his  strokes,  and  gave  Sir  Gawain  such  a  buffet  that  he  fell  down 
on  his  side ;  and  Sir  Launcelot  drew  back  and  would  strike  no 
more.  ' '  Why  withdrawest  thou,  false  traitor?"  then  said  Sir 
Gawain;  ''now  turn  again  and  slay  me,  for  if  thou  leave  me 
thus,  when  I  am  whole  again  I  shall  do  battle  with  thee  again. '  * 

**  *  Slay,  then,'  he  shriek'd,  *  my  will  is  to  be  slain.' 
And  Launcelot,  with  his  heel  upon  the  fall'n. 
Rolling  his  eyes,  a  moment  stood,  then  spake : 
*Rise,  weakling;  I  am  Launcelot.'  " 

— Pelleas  and  Ettarre. 

And  so  Sir  Launcelot  went  into  the  city,  and  Sir  Gawain  was 
borne  into  King  Arthur's  pavilion,  and  his  wounds  were  looked  to. 

Thus  the  siege  endured,  and  Sir  Gawain  lay  helpless  near  a 
month ;  and  when  he  was  near  recovered,  came  tidings  unto 
King  Arthur  that  made  him  return  with  all  his  host  to  England. 


II^^^^^MHSrW^^B^^^^ 

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^z^^^^^^=^^ 

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ifj-    »       (T 7 

:rr-^~^^  ,r^^^~~~^"^;.^^^'^ 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Morte  d' Arthur — The  Passing  of  Guin'e-vere — The 
Return  of  Laun'ce-lot — Laun'ce-lot's  Death. 

Morte  d' Arthur. 
Sir  Modred  was  left  ruler  of  all  England,  and  he  caused 
letters  to  be  written,  as  if  from  beyond  sea,  that  King  Arthur 
was  slain  in  battle.  So  he  called  a  Parliament,  and  made  him- 
self be  crowned  king;  and  he  took  the  queen,  Guinevere,  and 
said  plainly  that  he  would  wed  her,  but  she  escaped  from  him, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  Tower  of  London.  And  Sir  Modred 
went  and  laid  siege  about  the  Tower  of  London,  and  made 
great  assaults  thereat,  but  all  might  not  avail  him.  Then  came 
word  to  Sir  Modred  that  King  Arthur  had  raised  the  siege  of 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  was  coming  home.  Then  Sir  Modred  sum- 
moned all  the  barony  of  the  land ;  and  much  people  drew  unto 
Sir  Modred,  and  said  they  would  abide  with  him  for  better  and 
for  worse ;  and  he  drew  a  great  host  to  Dover,  for  there  he 
heard  say  that  King  Arthur  would  arrive. 

5*  I  hear  the  steps  of  Modred  in  the  west, 
And  with  him  many  of  thy  people,  and  knights 
Once  thine,  whom  thou  hast  loved,  but  grosser  grown 
Than  heathen,  spitting  at  their  vows  and  thee." 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

And  as  Sir  Modred  was  at  Dover  with  his  host,  came  King 
Arthur,  with  a  great  number  of  ships  and  galleys,  and  there  was 
Sir  Modred  awaiting  upon  the  landing.     Then  was  there  launch- 
ing of  great  boats  and  small,  full  of  noble  men  of  arms,  and 
(182) 


MOBTE  D' ARTHUR.  1 8  3 

there  was  much  slaughter  of  gentle  knights  on  both  parts.  But 
King  Arthur  was  so  courageous,  there  might  no  manner  of 
knights  prevent  him  to  land,  and  his  knights  fiercely  followed 
him  ;  and  so  they  landed,  and  put  Sir  Modred  aback  so  that  he 
fled,  and  all  his  people.  And  when  the  battle  was  done.  King 
Arthur  commanded  to  bury  his  people  that  were  dead.  And 
then  was  noble  Sir  Gawain  found,  in  a  great  boat,  lying  more 
than  half  dead.  And  King  Arthur  went  to  him,  and  made  sor- 
row out  of  measure.  '^Mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''my 
death-day  is  come.  And  had  Sir  Launcelot  been  with  you  as  of 
old,  this  war  had  never  begun,  and  of  all  this  I  am  the  cause." 
Then  Sir  Gawain  prayed  the  king  to  send  for  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
to  cherish  him  above  all  other  knights.  And  so,  at  the  hour  of 
noon,  Sir  Gawain  yielded  up  his  spirit,  and  then  the  king  bade 
inter  him  in  a  chapel  within  Dover  Castle ;  and  there  all  men 
may  see  the  skull  of  him,  and  the  same  wound  is  seen  that  Sir 
Launcelot  gave  him  in  battle. 

Then  was  it  told  the  king  that  Sir  Modred  had  pitched  his 
camp  upon  Barrendown ;  and  the  king  rode  thither,  and  there 
was  a  great  battle  betwixt  them,  and  King  Arthur's  party  stood 
best,  and  Sir  Modred  and  his  party  fled  unto  Canterbury. 

And  there  was  a  day  assigned  betwixt  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Modred  that  they  should  meet  upon  a  down  beside  Salisbury, 
and  not  far  from  the  seaside,  to  do  battle  yet  again.  And  at 
night,  as  the  king  slept,  he  dreamed  a  wonderful  dream.  It 
seemed  him  verily  that  there  came  Sir  Gawain  unto  him,  with 
a  number  of  fair  ladies  with  him.  And  when  King  Arthur  saw 
him,  he  said,  ^'  Welcome,  my  sister's  son  ;  I  weened  thou  hadst 
been  dead  ;  and  now  I  see  thee  alive,  great  is  my  joy.  But,  O 
fair  nephew,  what  be  these  ladies  that  hither  be  come  with 
you?"  ''  Sir,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''all  these  be  ladies  for  whom 
I  have  fought  when  I  was  a  living  man  ;  and  because  I  did  battle 
for  them  in  righteous  quarrel,  they  have  given  me  grace  to  bring 
me  hither  unto  you,  to  warn  you  of  your  death,  if  ye  fight 
to-morrow  with  Sir  Modred. 

**  Before  that  last  weird  battle  in  the  west 
There  came  on  Arthur  sleeping,  Gawain  kill'd 
In  Launcelot' s  war,  the  ghost  of  Gawain  blown 
Along  a  wandering  wind,  and  past  his  ear 


1 84  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Went  shrilling,  *  Hollow,  hollow  all  delight ! 
Hail,  king  !  to-morrow  thou  shalt  pass  away. 
Farewell !  there  is  an  isle  of  re-;t  for  thee. 
And  I  am  blown  along  a  wandering  wind, 
And  hollow,  hollow,  hollow  all  delight.'  " 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

Therefore  take  ye  treaty,  and  proffer  you  largely  for  a  month's 
delay  ;  for  within  a  month  shall  come  Sir  Launcelot  and  all  his 
noble  knights,  and  rescue  you  worshipfuUy,  and  slay  Sir  Modred 
and  all  that  hold  with  him. ' '  And  then  Sir  Gawain  and  all  the 
ladies  vanished. 

"  This  heard  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere,  and  spake — 
•  O  me,  my  king,  let  pass  whatever  will. 
Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  in  death 
Is  Gawain,  for  the  ghost  is  as  the  man  ; 
And  care  not  thou  for  dreams  from  him,  but  rise.'  " 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

And  anon  the  king  called  to  fetch  his  noble  lords  and  wise 
bishops  unto  him,  and  when  they  were  come,  the  king  told  them 
his  vision,  and  what  Sir  Gawain  had  told  him.  Then  the  king 
sent  Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedivere,  with  two  bishops, 
and  charged  them  in  any  wise  to  take  a  treaty  for  a  month  and  a 
day  with  Sir  Modred.  So  they  departed,  and  came  to  Sir  Mod- 
red  ;  and  so,  at  the  last.  Sir  Modred  was  agreed  to  have  Cornwall 
and  Kent,  during  Arthur's  life,  and  all  England  after  his  death. 

**  Sir  Modred  ;  he  the  nearest  to  the  king, 
His  nephew,  ever  like  a  subtle  beast 
Lay  couchant  with  his  eyes  upon  the  throne, 
Ready  to  spring,  waiting  a  chance." — Guinevere. 

Then  was  it  agreed  that  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Modred  should 
meet  betwixt  both  their  hosts,  and  each  of  them  should  bring 
fourteen  persons,  and  then  and  there  they  should  sign  the  treaty. 
And  when  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  were  prepared  to  go 
forth,  he  warned  all  his  host,  '*  If  so  be  ye  see  any  sword  drawn, 
look  ye  come  on  fiercely,  and  slay  whomsoever  withstandeth,  for 
I  in  no  wise  trust  that  traitor.  Sir  Modred. ' '  In  like  wise  Sir 
Modred  warned  his  host.  So  they  met,  and  were  agreed  and 
accorded  thoroughly.     And  wine  was  brought,  and  they  drank. 


MORTE  D' ARTHUR.  •  1 8  5 

Right  then  came  an  adder  out  of  a  little  heath-bush,  and  stung 
a  knight  on  the  foot.  And  when  the  knight  felt  him  sting,  he 
looked  down  and  saw  the  adder,  and  then  he  drew  his  sword  to 
slay  the  adder,  and  thought  of  no  other  harm.  And  when  the 
host  on  both  sides  saw  that  sword  drawn,  they  blew  trumpets 
and  horns,  and  shouted  greatly.  And  King  Arthur  took  his 
horse,  and  rode  to  his  party,  saying,  **  Alas,  this  unhappy  day  !" 
And  Sir  Modred  did  in  like  wise.  And  never  was  there  a  more 
doleful  battle  in  Christian  land.  And  ever  King  Arthur  rode 
throughout  the  battle,  and  did  full  nobly,  as  a  worthy  king 
should,  and  Sir  Modred  that  day  did  his  devoir  and  put  himself 
in  great  peril. 

**  Nor  ever  yet  had  Arthur  fought  a  fight 
Like  this  last,  dim,  weird  battle  of  the  west. 
A  death- white  mist  swept  over  sand  and  sea  ; 
Whereof  the  chill,  to  him  who  breathed  it,  drew 
Down  his  blood,  till  all  his  heart  was  cold 
With  formless  fear,  and  ev'n  on  Arthur  fell 
Confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he  fought, 
For  friend  and  foe  were  shadows  in  the  mist, 
And  friend  slew  friend,  not  knowing  whom  he  slew  ; 
And  some  had  visions  out  of  golden  youth, 
And  some  beheld  the  faces  of  old  ghosts 
Look  in  upon  the  battle  ;  then 
Rose,  and  the  pale  king  glanced  across  the  field 
Of  battle  ;  but  no  man  was  moving  there  ; 
Nor  any  cry  of  Christian  heard  thereon. 
Nor  yet  of  heathen  ;  only  the  wan  wave 
Brake  in  among  dead  faces,  to  and  fro 
Swaying  the  helpless  hands,  and  up  and  down 
Tumbling  the  hollow  helmets  of  the  fallen." 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

And  thus  they  fought  all  the  long  day,  till  the  most  of  all  the 
noble  knights  lay  dead  upon  the  ground.  Then  the  king  looked 
about  him  and  saw  of  all  his  host  were  left  alive  but  two  knights. 
Sir  Lucan  the  butler  and  Sir  Bedivere  his  brother,  and  they 
were  full  sore  wounded. 

**  Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedivere  : 
*  The  sequel  of  to-day  unsolders  all 
The  goodliest  fellowship  of  famous  knights 
Whereof  this  world  holds  record.     Such  a  sleep 


1 86 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 


They  sleep — the  men  I  loved.     I  think  that  we 
Shall  never  more,  at  any  future  time, 
Delight  our  souls  with  talk  of  knightly  deeds, 
Walking  about  the  gardens  and  the  halls 
Of  Camelot,  as  in  the' days  that  were.'  " 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 


rf^" 


After  the  Last  Battle. 


Then  King  Arthur  saw  where  Sir  Modred  leaned  upon  his 
sword  among  a  great  heap  of  dead  men.  "Now  give  me  my 
spear, ' '  said  Arthur  unto  Sir  Lucan,  ' '  for  yonder  I  espy  the 
traitor  that  hath  wrought  all  this  woe."  ''Sir,  let  him  be," 
said  Sir  Lucan;  "for  if  ye  pass  this  unhappy  day,  ye  shall  be 
right  well  revenged  upon  him.  Remember  what  the  sprite  of 
Sir  Gawain  told  you,  and  leave  off  now,  for  ye  have  won  the 
field ;  and  if  ye  leave  off  now,  this  evil  day  of  destiny  is  past. ' ' 
"Betide  me  life,  betide  me  death,"  said  King  Arthur,  "he 


MORTE  n ARTHUR.  1 87 

shall  not  now  escape  my  hands. ' '  Then  the  king  took  his  spear 
in  both  hands,  and  ran  toward  Sir  Modred,  crying,  '*  Traitor, 
now  is  thy  death-day  come. ' ' 

*'  And  uttering  this,  the  king 
Made  at  the  man  :  then  Modred  smote  his  liege 
Hard  on  that  helm  which  many  a  heathen  sword 
Had  beaten  thin,  while  Arthur  at  one  blow, 
Striking  the  last  stroke  with  Excalibur, 
Slew  him,  and  all  but  slain  himself  he  fell." 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

Sir  Lucan  the  butler  and  Sir  Bedivere,  seeing  him  fall,  has- 
tened to  his  aid.  They  raised  him  up,  and  gently  led  him  be- 
twixt them  both  to  a  little  chapel  not  far  from  the  seaside. 

**  The  bold  Sir  Bedivere  uplifted  him, 
And  bore  him  to  a  chapel  nigh  the  field, 
A  broken  chancel  with  a  broken  cross. 
That  stood  on  a  dark  strait  of  barren  land. 
On  one  side  lay  the  ocean,  and  on  one  ^j, 

Lay  a  great  water,  and  the  moon  was  full." 

— MoRTE  d' Arthur. 

And  when  the  king  was  there,  he  thought  him  well  eased.  Then 
heard  they  people  cry  in  the  field.  And  Sir  Lucan  went  to  see 
what  that  cry  betokened ;  and  he  saw  by  the  moonlight  that 
pillers  and  robbers  were  come  to  rob  the  dead.  And  he  re- 
turned, and  said  to  the  king,  *'By  my  rede,  it  is  best  that  we 
bring  you  to  some  town."  "  I  would  it  were  so,"  said  the  king. 
And  when  the  king  tried  to  go,  he  fainted.  Then  Sir  Lucan 
took  up  the  king  on  the  one  part,  and  Sir  Bedivere  on  the  other 
part ;  and  in  the  lifting.  Sir  Lucan  fell  in  a  sWoon  to  the  earth, 
for  he  was  grievously  wounded.  And  then  the  noble  knight's 
heart  burst.  And  when  the  king  awoke,  he  beheld  Sir  Lucan 
how  he  lay  speechless.  *^  Alas  !"  said  the  king,  '*  this  is  to  me 
a  full  heavy  sight,  to  see  this  noble  duke  so  die  for  my  sake." 
Then  Sir  Bedivere  wept  for  his  brother.  ''Leave  this  mourn- 
ing and  weeping,"  said  the  king,  "  for  wit  thou  well,  if  I  might 
live  myself,  the  death  of  Sir  Lucan  would  grieve  me  evermore." 

'*  But  let  what  will  be,  be. 
I  am  so  deeply  smitten  thro'  the  helm 


1 88  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

That  without  help  I  cannot  last  till  morn. 

Thou  therefore  take  my  brand  Excalibur, 

Which  was  my  pride  :  for  thou  rememberest  how 

In  those  old  days,   one  summer  noon,  an  arm 

Rose  up  from  out  the  bosom  of  the  lake, 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

Holding  the  sword — and  how  I  row'd  across 

And  took  it,  and  have  worn  it,  like  a  king  : 

And,  wheresoever  I  am  sung  or  told 

In  after  time,  this  shall  be  known. 

But  now  delay  not.     Take  thou  Excalibur, 

And  fling  him  far  into  the  middle  mere. 

Watch  what  thou  seest,  and  lightly  bring  me  word." 

— MoRTE  d' Arthur. 

"My  lord,"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  **your  commandment  shall  be 
done. ' '  So  Sir  Bedivere  departed,  and  by  the  way  he  beheld  that 
noble  sword,  that  the  pommel  and  the  heft  were  all  of  precious 
stones  ;  and  then  he  said  to  himself,  ''  If  I  throw  this  rich  sword 
into  the  water,  no  good  shall  come  thereof,  but  only  harm  and 
loss."  And  then  Sir  Bedivere  hid  Excalibur  under  a  tree.  And 
so,  as  soon  as  he  might,  he  came  again  unto  the  king.  "  What 
sawest  thou  there?"  said  the  king.  **Sir,"  he  said,  **I  saw 
nothing. "  '  *  Alas  !  thou  hast  deceived  me, ' '  said  the  king.  ' '  Go 
thou  lightly  again,  and  as  thou  love  me,  spare  not  to  throw  it  in. " 
Then  Sir  Bedivere  went  again,  and  took  the  sword  in  his  hand  to 
throw  it ;  but  again  it  beseemed  him  but  sin  and  shame  to  throw 
away  that  noble  sword,  and  he  hid  it  away  again,  and  returned, 
and  told  the  king  he  had  done  his  commandment.  ^'  What 
sawest  thou  there?"  said  the  king. 

"  Then  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere : 
*  I  heard  the  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds. 
And  the  wild  water  lapping  on  the  crag.'  " 

— MoRTE  d' Arthur. 

**Ah,  traitor  untrue  ! "  said  King  Arthur,  **  now  hast  thou  be- 
trayed me  twice.  And  yet  thou  art  named  a  noble  knight,  and 
hast  been  lief  and  dear  to  me.  But  now  go  again,  and  do  as  I 
bid  thee,  for  thy  long  tarrying  putteth  me  in  jeopardy  of  my 
life." 

**Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedivere,  and  ran, 
And  leaping  down  the  ridges  lightly,  plimged 


MOBTE  U  ARTHUR.  1 89 

Among  the  bulrush-beds,  and  clutch'd  the  sword, 

And  strongly  wheel' d  and  threw  it.     The  great  brand 

Made  lightnings  in  the  splendor  of  the  moon, 

And  flashing  round  and  round,  and  whirl' d  in  an  arch. 

Shot  like  a  streamer  of  the  northern  morn, 

Seen  where  the  moving  isles  of  winter  shock 

By  night,  with  noises  of  the  northern  sea. 

So  flash' d  and  fell  the  brand  Excalibur  : 

But  ere  he  dipt  the  surface,  rose  an  arm 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

And  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  brandish' d  him 

Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere." 

— MoRTE  d' Arthur. 

Sir  Bedivere  came  again  to  the  king,  and  told  him  what  he 
saw.  ''Help  me  hence,"  said  the  king,  ''for  I  fear  I  have 
tarried  too  long."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  took  the  king  on  his  back, 
and  so  went  with  him  to  that  water-side  ;  and  when  they  came 
there,  even  fast  by  the  bank  there  rode  a  little  barge  with  many- 
fair  ladies  in  it,  and  among  them  was  a  queen  ;  and  all  had  black 
hoods,  and  they  wept  and  shrieked  when  they  saw  King  Arthur. 

"  Then  murmur 'd  Arthur,  *  Place  me  in  the  barge,' 
And  to  the  barge  they  came.     There  those  three  queens 
Put  forth  their  hands,  and  took  the  king,  and  wept. 
But  she,  that  rose  the  tallest  of  them  all 
And  fairest,  laid  his  head  upon  her  lap. 
And  loosed  the  shatter' d  casque,  and  chafed  his  hands. 
And  call'd  him  by  his  name,  complaining  loud, 
And  dropping  bitter  tears  against  his  brow 
Striped  with  dark  blood  :  for  all  his  face  was  white 
And  colorless,  and  like  the  wither' d  moon 
Smote  by  the  fresh  beam  of  the  springing  east." 

— MoRTE  d' Arthur. 

And  then  they  rowed  from  the  land,  and  Sir  Bedivere  beheld 
them  go  from  him.  Then  he  cried:  ''Ah,  my  lord  Arthur, 
will  ye  leave  me  here  alone  among  mine  enemies  ?"  "  Comfort 
thyself,"  said  the  ting,  "  for  in  me  is  no  further  help." 

**  The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new, 
And  God  fulfils  himself  in  many  ways. 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world. 
Comfort  thyself :   what  comfort  is  in  me? 
I  have  lived  my  life,  and  that  which  I  have  done 


190  KINQ  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS, 

Ma/Tie  within  himself  make  pure  !  but  thou, 

If  thou  shouldst  never  see  my  face  a^ain, 

Pray  for  my  soul.     More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 

Than  this  world  dreams  of.     Wherefore  let  thy  voice 

Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and  day. 

For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats 

That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain, 

If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 

Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend  ? 

For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 

Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God. 

But  now  farewell.     I  am  going  a  long  way 

With  these  thou  seest — if  indeed  I  go — 

( For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a  doubt) 

To  the  island  valley  of  Avilion  ; 

Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 

Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly  ;  but  it  lies 

Deep-meadow' d,  happy,  fair  with  orchard-lawns 

And  bowery  hollows  crown' d  with  summer  sea. 

Where  1  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound.' 

So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar  and  sail 

Moved  from  the  brink,  like  some  full-breasted  svvafi 

That,  fluting  a  wild  carol  ere  her  death. 

Ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes  the  flood 

With  swarthy  webs.'' — Morte  d'Arthur. 

Sir  Bedivere  stood  for  a  long  time  revolving  in  his  memories : 

«'  Till  the  hull 
Look'd  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn. 
And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away." 

In  the  morning  he  was  aware  of  a  chapel  and  a  hermitage  near. 
Thither  he  went,  and  there  met  a  hermit.  "Sir,"  said  Sir 
Bedivere,  '*  what  man  is  there  buried  that  ye  pray  so  near  unto  ?' ' 
''Fair  son,"  said  the  hermit,  *'I  know  not  yerily.  But  this 
night  there  came  a  number  of  ladies,  and  brought  hither  one 
dead,  and  prayed  me  to  bury  him."  ''Alas!"  said  Sir  Bedi- 
vere, "that  was  my  lord.  King  Arthur."  Then  Sir  Bedivere 
swooned,  and  when  he  awoke  he  prayed  the  hermit  he  might 
abide  with  him,  to  live  with  fasting  and  prayers.  "Ye  are  wel- 
come," said  the  hermit.  So  there  bode  Sir  Bedivere  with  the 
hermit ;  and  he  put  on  poor  clothes,  and  served  the  hermit  full 
lowly  in  fasting  and  in  prayers. 

Thus  of  Arthur  I  find  never  more  written  in  books  that  be 


m 


THE  PASSING  OF  QUINEVEBE.  191 

authorized,  nor  more  of  the  very  certainty  of  his  death  ;  but 
thus  was  he  led  away  in  a  ship,  wherein  were  three  queens  ;  the 
one  was  King  Arthur's  sister,  Queen  Morgane  le  Fay ;  the  other 
was  Vivian,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  ;  and  the  third  was  the  Queen 
of  North  Galis.  And  this  tale  Sir  Bedivere,  knight  of  the  Table 
Round,  made  co  be  written. 

Yet  some  men  say  that  King  Arthur  is  not  dead,  but  hid  away 
into  another  place,  and  men  say  that  he  shall  come  again  and 
reign  over  England.  But  many  say  that  there  is  written  on 
his  tomb  this  verse  : 

**  Here  Arthur  lies,  King  once  and  King  to  be.** 

The  Passing  of  Guin'e-vere. 

When  Guinevere  saw  the  disaster  that  threatened  Sir  Arthur 
and  the  kingdom,  she  mounted  a  horse  and  fled  to  Almesbury. 
There  she  sought  refuge  in  a  nunnery. 

* '  And  when  she  came  to  Almesbury  she  spake 
There  to  the  nuns,  and  said,  *  Mine  enemies 
Pursue  me,  but,  O  peaceful  Sisterhood, 
Receive,  and  yield  me  sanctuary,  nor  ask 
Her  name  to  whom  ye  yield  it,  till  her  time 
To  tell  you  :'  and  her  beauty,  grace  and  power 
Wrought  as  a  charm  upon  them,  and  they  spared 
To  ask  it." — Guinevere. 

There  she  remained  for  many  weeks  unknown  to  her  attendants. 
Her  time  was  spent  in  the  bitterest  reflections.  She  wandered 
alone  through  the  halls  of  the  nunnery,  a  constant  object  to  the 
curious  and  the  wondering.  Sometimes  she  would  venture  out 
upon  the  grounds  and  watch  the  passing  crowds : 

**  She,  staring  on  the  stone-dry  street. 
Through  the  long  summer- noonday  heat, 
And  stirring  never  from  her  seat. 
Half  saw  men's  shadows  pass  her  feet. 
*  Ah,  me,'  she  murmured,  'well  I  see 
How  bitter  each  day's  life  may  be 
To  them  who  have  not  where  to  flee, 
And  are  as  one  with  misery.'  " — S.  Weir  Mitchell. 

A  little  maid,  a  novice,  was  her  only  companion.     At  times  she 


192  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

found  relief  in  talking  to  her  guileless  friend,  and  listening  to 
the  songs  which  the  nuns  had  taught  her  to  sing : 

**  *  Late,  late,  so  late  !  and  dark  the  night  and  chill  1 
Late,  late,  so  late  !  but  we  can  enter  still. 
Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

**  *  No  light  had  we  :  for  that  we  do  repent ; 
And  learning  this,  the  bridegroom  will  relent.  / 

Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

*'  *  No  light :  so  late  !  and  dark  and  chill  the  night  I 
O  let  us  in,  that  we  may  find  the  light ! 
Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

"  *  Have  we  not  heard  the  bridegroom  is  so  sweet  ? 
O  let  us  in,  tho'  late,  to  kiss  his  feet ! 
No,  no,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now.'  " — Guinevere. 

The  sight  of  the  queen  suffering  always  moved  the  little  novice 
to  compassion,  and  in  her  own  guileless  way  she  sought  to  ex- 
press her  sympathy.  In  this  she  would  speak  of  a  sorrow 
greater  than  her  own  : 

*'  Ah,  sweet  lady,  the  king's  grief 
For  his  own  self,  and  his  own  queen,  and  realm. 
Must  needs  be  thrice  as  great  as  any  of  ours. 
For  even  here  they  ta'k  at  Almesbuiy 
About  the  good  king  and  his  wicked  queen, 
And  were  I  such  a  king  with  such  a  queen. 
Well  might  I  wish  to  veil  her  wickedness, 
But  were  I  such  a  king,  it  could  not  be." 

To  which  a  mournful  answer  made  the  queen  : 

**  O,  closed  about  by  narrowing  nunnery  walls. 
What  knowest  thou  of  the  world,  and  all  its  lights 
And  shadows,  all  the  wealth  and  all  the  woe  ? 
If  ever  Launcelot,  that  most  noble  knight. 
Were  for  one  hour  less  noble  than  himself. 
Pray  for  him  that  he  'scape  the  doom  of  fire, 
And  weep  for  her  who  drew  him  to  his  doom." — Guinevere. 

One  night,  as  the  queen  sat  musing  in  her  chamber,  an  armed 
warrior  approached  the  nunnery  door.  A  subdued  whisper  ran 
through  the  hall,  and  then  a  cry,  *'The  King!"  It  was  Sir 
Arthur.     The  queen — 


o 


THE  PASSING  OF  GUINEVEBE.  1 93 

*'  From  off  the  seat  she  fell, 
And  grovelled  with  her  face  against  the  floor. 
Then  came  silence,  then  a  voice, 
Monotonous  and  hollow,  like  a  ghost's, 
Denouncing  judgment ;  but,  tho'  changed,  the  king's. 
'  Liest  thou  here  so  low,  the  child  of  one 
I  honor' d,  happv,  dead  before  thy  shame? 
Well  is  it  that  no  child  is  born  of  thee. 

The  children  born  of  thee  are  sword  and  fire,  ; 

Red  ruin,  and  the  breaking  up  of  laws, 
The  craft  of  kindred  and  the  Godless  hosts 
Of  heathen  swarming  o'er  the  Northern  Sea.' 
He  paused,  and  in  the  pause  she  crept  an  inch 
Nearer,  and  laid  her  hands  about  his  feet. 
Far  off  a  solitary  trumpet  blew. 
Then  waiting  by  the  doors  the  warhorse  neigh'd, 
As  at  a  friend's  voice,  and  he  spake  again. 
*  Yet  think  not  that  I  come  to  urge  thy  crimes, 
I  did  not  come  to  curse  thee,  Guinevere, 
I,  whose  vast  pity  almost  makes  me  die 
To  see  thee,  laying  there  thy  golden  head, 
My  pride  in  happier  summers  at  my  feet. 
And  all  is  past,  the  sin  is  sinn'd,  and  I, 
Lo :  I  forgive  thee,  as  Eternal  God 
Forgives  :  do  thou  for  thine  own  soul  the  rest. 
But  how  to  take  last  leave  of  all  I  loved  ? 
O  golden  hair,  with  which  I  used  to  play 
Not  knowing.     O  imperial-moulded  form, 
And  beauty  such  as  never  woman  wore, 
Let  no  man  dream  but  that  I  love  thee  still, 
Perchance,  and  so  thou  purify  thy  soul. 
And  so  thou  lean  on  our  fair  father  Christ, 
Hereafter  in  that  world  where  all  are  pure 
We  two  may  meet  before  high  God,  and  thou 
Wilt  spring  to  me,  and  claim  me  thine. 

Now  must  I  hence. 
Thro'  the  thick  night  I  hear  the  trumpet  blow  : 
They  summon  me,  their  King,  to  lead  mine  hosts 
Far  down  to  that  great  battle  in  the  west." — Guinevere. 

The  identity  of  the  queen  was  no  longer  a  mystery.  King 
Arthur's  visit  had  revealed  to  the  astonished  nuns  that  Guinevere 
had  become  one  of  themselves.  The  queen  was  apprehensive 
lest  the  disclosure  might  invite  their  reproach.  She  followed 
with  her  eyes  from  the  window  the  form  of  the  king  as  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness,  then  turning  to  the  nuns,  exclaimed. 


194  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

**0  shut  me  round  with  narrowing  nunnery -walls, 
Meek  maidens,  from  the  voices  crying  *  Shame.'  " 


Peace. 

They  took  her  to  themselves, 

Still  hoping,  fearing,  '  Is  it  yet  too  late  ?' 

Dwelt  with  them,  till  in  time  their  Abbess  died. 

Then  she,  for  her  good  deeds  and  her  pure  life, 

And  for  the  power  of  ministration  in  her, 

And  likewise  for  the  high  rank  she  had  borne, 

Was  chosen  abbess,  there,  an  abbess,  lived 

For  three  brief  years,  and  there,  an  abbess,  past 

To  where  beyond  these  voices  there  is  peace." — Guinevere. 


There  was  much  sorrow  throughout  the  country  at  the  death 
of  Queen  Guinevere.  With  her  passing,  and  that  of  the  king's, 
the  people  saw  that  the  age  of  chivalry  was  soon  to  be  over. 
She  was  borne  with  great  pomp  to  Glastonbury,  and  there  buried 
amid  the  dole  and  lamentations  of  the  kingdom. 


THE  RETURN  OF  LA  UNCELOT.  I95 

The  Return  of  Laun'ce-lot. 

When  Sir  Launcelot  heard  in  his  country  that  Sir  Modred  was 
crowned  king  of  England,  and  made  war  against  his  own  uncle, 
King  Arthur,  then  was  Sir  Launcelot  wroth  out  of  measure,  and 
said  to  his  kinsmen;  *' Alas  that  double  traitor.  Sir  Modred; 
now  it  repenteth  me  that  ever  he  escaped  out  of  my  hands." 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  his  fellows  made  ready  in  all  haste,  with 
ships  and  galleys,  to  pass  into  England ;  and  so  he  passed  over 
till  he  came  to  Dover,  and  there  he  landed  with  a  great  army. 
Then  Sir  Launce.ot  was  told  that  King  Arthur  was  slain. 

**  Alas  !     What  sadder  news 
Could  come  to  me  ?" 

Then  he  called  the  kings,  dukes,  barons,  and  knights,  and  said 
thus  :  *'  My  fair  lords,  I  thank  you  all  for  coming  into  this 
country  with  me,  but  we  came  too  late,  and  that  shall  repent  me 
while  I  live.  But  since  it  is  so,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "I  will 
myself  ride  and  seek  my  lady,  Queen  Guinevere,  for  I  have  heard 
say  she  hath  fled  into  the  west;  therefore  ye  shall  abide  me  here 
fifteen  days,  and  if  I  come  not  within  that  time,  then  take  your 
ships  and  your  host,  and  depart  into  your  country." 

So  Sir  Launcelot  departed  and  rode  westerly,  and  there  he 
sought  many  days ;  and  at  last  he  came  to  a  nunnery,  and  was 
seen  of  Queen  Guinevere  as  he  walked  in  the  cloister ;  and  when 
she  saw  him,  she  swooned  away.  And  when  she  might  speak, 
she  bade  him  to  be  called  to  her.  And  when  Sir  Launcelot  was 
brought  to  her,  she  said  : 

"  O  Launcelot,  get  thee  hence  to  thine  own  land, 
For  if  thou  tarry  we  shall  meet  again. 
Would  God,  that  thou  could'  st  hide  me  from  myself, 
For  I  will  draw  me  into  sanctuary, 
And  bide  my  doom." 

And  so  they  parted,  with  tears  and  much  lamentation ;  and  the 
ladies  bare  the  queen  to  her  chamber,  and  Sir  Launcelot  took 
his  horse  and  rode  away,  weeping. 

And  at  last  Sir  Launcelot  was  ware  of  a  hermitage  and  a 
chapel,  and  then  he  heard  a  little  bell  ring  to  mass  ;  and  thither 
he  rode  and  alighted,  and  tied  his  horse  to  the  gate,  and  heard 


196  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIOHTS. 

mass.  And  he  that  sang  the  mass  was  the  hermit  with  whom 
Sir  Bedivere  had  taken  up  his  abode  ;  and  Sir  Bedivere  knew 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  they  spake  together  after  mass.  But  when 
Sir  Bedivere  had  told  his  tale,  Sir  Launcelot' s  heart  almost  burst 
for  sorrow.  Then  he  kneeled  down,  and  prayed  the  hermit  to 
shrive  him,  and  besought  that  he  might  be  his  brother.  Then 
the  hermit  said,  *'  I  will  gladly  ;"  and  then  he  put  a  habit  upon 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  there  he  served  God  day  and  night,  with 
prayers  and  fastings. 

And  the  great  host  abode  at  Dover  till  the  end  of  the  fifteen 
days  set  by  Sir  Launcelot,  and  then  Sir  Bohort  made  them  to  go 
home  again  to  their  own  country ;  and  Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector 
de  Marys,  Sir  Blamor,  and  many  others,  took  on  them  to  ride 
through  all  England  to  seek  Sir  Launcelot.  So  Sir  Bohort  by 
fortune  rode  until  he  came  to  the  same  chapel  where  Sir  Laun- 
celot was ;  and  when  he  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  that  manner  of 
clothing,  he  prayed  the  hermit  that  he  might  be  in  that  same. 
And  so  there  was  an  habit  put  upon  him,  and  there  he  lived  in 
prayers  and  fasting.  And  within  half  a  year  came  others  of  the 
knights,  their  fellows,  and  took  such  a  habit  as  Sir  Launcelot 
and  Sir  Bohort  had.  Thus  they  endured  in  great  penance  six 
years. 

And  upon  a  night  there  came  a  vision  to  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
charged  him  to  haste  him  toward  Almesbury,  and  ''by  the  time 
thou  come  there,  thou  shalt  find  Queen  Guinevere  dead."  Then 
Sir  Launcelot  rose  up  early,  and  told  the  hermit  thereof.  Then 
said  the  hermit,  "  It  were  well  that  ye  disobey  not  this  vision." 
And  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  seven  companions  with  him,  and  on 
foot  they  went  from  Glastonbury  to  Almesbury,  which  is  more 
than  thirty  miles.  And  when  they  were  come  to  Almesbury, 
they  found  that  Queen  Guinevere  died  but  half  an  hour  before. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  her  visage,  but  he  wept  not  greatly,  but 
sighed.  And  so  he  did  all  the  observance  of  the  service  him- 
self, both  the  "dirige"  at  night,  and  at  morn  he  sang  mass. 
And  there  was  prepared  an  horse-bier,  and  Sir  Launcelot  and  his 
fellows  followed  the  bier  on  foot  from  Almesbury  until  they 
came  to  Glastonbury  ;  and  she  was  wrapped  in  cered  clothes, 
and  laid  in  a  coffin  of  marble.  And  when  she  was  put  in  the 
earth,  Sir  Launcelot  swooned,  and  lay  long  as  one  dead. 


LA  UNCELOrS  DEA  TH.  1 97 

And  Sir  Launcelot  never  after  ate  but  little  meat,  nor  drank ; 
but  continually  mourned. 

Laun'ce-lot's  Death. 

And  within  six  weeks  Sir  Launcelot  fell  sick ;  and  he  sent 
for  the  hermit  and  all  his  true  fellows,  and  said,  ''Sir  hermit, 
I  pray  you  give  me  all  my  rights  that  a  Christian  man  ought 
to  have."  *'  It  shall  not  need,"  said  the  hermit  and  all  his  fel- 
lows ;  ''  it  is  but  heaviness  of  your  blood,  and  to-morrow  morn 
you  shall  be  well."  ''My  fair  lords,"  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
"my  careful  body  will  into  the  earth;  I  have  warning  more 
than  now  I  will  say  ;  therefore  give  me  my  rights. ' '  So  when 
he  was  houseled  and  aneled,  and  had  all  that  a  Christian  man 
ought  to  have,  he  prayed  the  hermit  that  his  fellows  might  bear 
his  body  to  Joyous  Garde.  "It  repenteth  me  sore,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "but  I  made  a  vow  aforetime  that  in  Joyous  Garde 
I  would  be  buried."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  wringing 
of  hands  among  his  fellows.  And  that  night  Sir  Launcelot 
died ;  and  when  Sir  Bohort  and  his  fellows  came  to  his  bedside 
the  next  morning,  they  found  him  stark  dead  ;  and  he  lay  as  if  he 
had  smiled,  and  the  sweetest  savor  all  about  him  that  ever  they 
knew. 

And  they  put  Sir  Launcelot  into  the  same  horse-bier  that  Queen 
Guinevere  was  laid  in,  and  the  hermit  and  they  all  together  went 
with  the  body  till  they  came  to  Joyous  Garde.  And  there  they 
laid  his  corpse  in  the  body  of  the  quire,  and  sang  and  read  many 
psalms  and  prayers  over  him.  And  ever  his  visage  was  laid  open 
and  naked,  that  all  folks  might  behold  him.  And  right  thus,  as 
they  were  at  their  service,  there  came  Sir  Hector  de  Maris,  that  had 
seven  years  sought  Sir  Launcelot  his  brother,  through  all  Eng- 
land, Scotland,  and  Wales.  And  when  Sir  Hector  heard  such 
sounds  in  the  chapel  of  Joyous  Garde,  he  alighted  and  came 
into  the  quire.  '  And  all  they  knew  Sir  Hector.  Then  went  Sir 
Bohort,  and  told  him  how  there  lay  Sir  Launcelot  his  brother 
dead.  Then  Sir  Hector  threw  his  shield,  his  sword,  and  helm 
from  him.  And  when  he  beheld  Sir  Launcelot' s  visage,  it  were 
hard  for  any  tongue  to  tell  the  doleful  complaints  he  made  for 
his  brother.  "  Ah,  Sir  Launcelot  !"  he  said,  "  there  thou  liest. 
And  now  I  dare  to  say  thou  wert  never  matched  of  none  earthlv 


198  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

knight's  hand.  And  thou  wert  the  courteousest  knight  that  ever 
bare  shield ;  and  thou  wert  the  truest  friend  to  thy  lover  that 
ever  bestrode  horse ;  and  thou  wert  the  truest  lover,  of  a  sinful 
man,  that  ever  loved  woman  ;  and  thou  wert  the  kindest  man 
that  ever  struck  with  sword.  And  thou  wert  the  goodliest  person 
that  ever  came  among  press  of  knights.  And  thou  wert  the 
meekest  man,  and  the  gentlest,  that  ever  ate  in  hall  among 
ladies.  And  thou  wert  the  sternest  knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that 
ever  put  spear  in  the  rest."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  dolor 
out  of  measure.  Thus  they  kept  Sir  Launcelot's  corpse  fifteen 
days,  and  then  they  buried  it  with  great  devotion. 

Then  they  went  back  with  the  hermit  to  his  hermitage.  And 
Sir  Bedivere  was  there  ever  still  hermit  to  his  life's  end.  And 
Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Blamor,  and  Sir  Bleoberis  went  into 
the  Holy  Land.  And  these  four  knights  did  many  battles  upon 
the  miscreants,  the  Turks ;  and  there  they  died  upon  a  Good 
Friday,  as  it  pleased  God.^ 

*'  Sir  Launcelot,  as  became  a  noble  knight. 
Was  gracious  to  all  ladies,  and  the  same 
In  open  battle  or  the  tilting-field, 
Forbore  his  own  advantage,  and  the  king, 
In  open  battle  or  the  tilting-field, 
Forbore  his  own  advantage,  and  these  two 
Were  the  most  nobly-mannered  men  of  all. 
For  manners  are  not  idle,  but  the  fruit 
Of  loyal  nature  and  of  noble  mind." — Guinevere. 

Thus  endeth  this  noble  and  joyous  book,  entitled  La  Morte 
d' Arthur;  notwithstanding  it  treateth  of  the  birth,  life,  and  acts 
of  the  said  King  Arthur,  and  of  his  noble  Knights  of  the  Round 
Table,  their  marvellous  enquests  and  adventures,  the  achieving 
of  the  Sangreal,  and,  in  the  end,  le  Morte  d' Arthur,  with  the 
dolorous  death  and  departing  out  of  this  world  of  them  all. 
Which  book  was  reduced  into  English  by  Sir  Thomas  Mallory, 
Knight,  and  divided  into  twenty-one  books,  chaptered  and  im- 
printed and  finished  in  the  Abbey  Westmestre,  the  last  day  of 
July,  the  year  of  our  Lord  MCCCCLXXXV. 

^  This  was  centuries  before  the  Turks  had  occupied  Palestine,  an  inaccu- 
racy quite  pardonable  in  traditional  history. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Mediaeval  Legends. 

St.  George  and  the  Dragon — The  Lia  Fail — Robin 
Hood — Stone'henge — The  Fortunate  Isles. 

St.   George  and  the  Dragon. 

There  are  two  St.  Georges  who  figure  in  British  annals,  one 
of  whom  was  a  veritable  person  who  suffered  martyrdom  in 
Nicomedia  in  the  fourth  century.  The  other  St.  George  is  a 
mythical  hero,  .and  is  represented  as  having  slain  the  dragon 
which  a  magician  had  sent  to  the  Princess  Alexandria.  The 
dragon  is  frequently  referred  to  in  Scripture,  and  is  supposed  by 
some  to  have  been  the  crocodile  or  a  giant  serpent.  In  mythol- 
ogy he  is  always  pictured  as  of  immense  size,  with  wings,  crest, 
and  a  snaky  tail.  The  one  slain  by  St.  George  is  thus  repre- 
sented in  a  poem  of  great  antiquity  : 

*'  His  scales  was  bryghter  than  the  glas 
And  harder  were  they  than  any  bras  ; 
Betwene  his  shulder  and  his  tayle 
Was  forty  fote  withoute  fayle." — Percy's  Reliques. 

The  monster  had  a  voice  like  that  of  thunder.  St.  George 
smote  him  with  his  spear,  which  was  broken  into  a  thousand 
pieces.  A  stroke,  in  return,  from  the  monster's  tail  threw  rider 
and  horse  to  the  earth  and  broke  two  of  the  saint's  ribs.  The 
battle  would  have  gone  hard  with  St.  George  had  he  not  fortu- 
nately 

"  Hitt  him  under  the  wynge 
As  he  was  in  his  flyenge." — Percy's  Reliques. 

(  199  ) 


200  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

The  story  appears  under  various  foni:s.  One  represents  the 
dragon  as  a  plague  infesting  the  city. 

**  A  dreadful  dragon  fierce  and  fell, 
Who  by  his  poisonous  breath  each  day 
Did  many  of  the  city  slay." — Percy's  Reliques. 

Daily  he  came  to  the  city,  and  claimed  as  his  victim  some 
[beautiful  maiden. 

**  Thus  did  the  dragon  ev'ry  day 
Untimely  crop  some  virgin  flower, 
Till  all  the  maids  were  worn  away, 
And  none  were  left  him  to  devour. ' ' 

— Percy's  Reliques. 

At  last  the  people  went  to  the  king,  and  urged  that  his 
daughter  must  be  given  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  monster.  The 
queen  protested,  and  offered  herself  in  the  princess's  stead. 

**  Like  mad  men  all  the  people  cried, 
*  Thy  death  to  us  can  do  no  good  ; 
Our  safety  only  doth  abide 
In  making  her  the  dragon's  food.'  " 

— Percy's  Reliques. 

The  young  woman  finally  yielded,  and  said  to  her  father  that  she 
was  ready  to  offer  herself  as  a  sacrifice.  Great  preparations  were 
made  for  her  death.  She  was  tied  to  the  stake,  and  awaited  the 
dragon's  coming.  The  king  and  queen  departed,  and  left  their 
daughter  to  her  fate.  By  accident  St.  George  came  riding  by, 
and  asked  what  caitiff  thus  abused  the  maiden.  Just  then  the 
dragon  issued  from  the  wood.  But  her  deliverer  was  at  hand ; 
the  monster  had  at  last  met  the  bravest  knight  in  all  the  world. 

**St.  George,  then  looking  round  about, 
The  fiery  dragon  soon  espeyed, 
And,  like  a  knight  of  courage  stout, 
Against  him  did  most  fiercely  ride. 
And  with  such  blows  he  did  him  greet, 
He  fell  beneath  the  horse's  feet. 
And  thus  within  the  lady's  view. 
The  mighty  dragon  straight  he  slew." 

— Percy's  Reliques. 


c- 


The  Lia  F"ail  and  Coronation  Chair. 


ST.  GEORGE  AND  THE  DRAGON.  20I 

There  is  another  and  more  beautiful  version  to  this  same 
legend.  St.  George,  while  out  in  search  of  an  adventure,  came 
upon  the  princess,  bound  and  awaiting  her  death.  Asking  her 
the  cause  of  her  grief,  she  urged  him  *'to  go  his  way,  lest  he 
perish  also."     St.  George  saw  the  monster  coming 

**  Lifelike  the  huge  neck  seemed  to  swell, 
And  widely  as  some  porch  to  hell 
You  might  the  horrent  jaws  survey, 
Grisly  and  greeding  for  their  prey. 
Grim  fangs  an  added  terror  gave, 
Like  crags  that  whiten  through  a  cave." — Schiller. 

He  hastily  crossed  himself,  and  struck  him  such  a  blow  that  he  fell 
to  the  earth.  Then  the  knight  ordered  the  lady  to  take  his  girdle 
and  bind  it  about  the  dragon's  neck.  This  she  did,  when  the 
monster  followed  her  as  if  he  had  been  a  lamb.  She  led  him  into 
the  city,  which,  when  the  people  saw,  they  fled  in  terror.  St. 
George  assured  them  there  was  no  danger,  and  promised,  if  they 
would  but  embrace  Christianity,  he  would  slay  the  dragon  before 
their  eyes.  Fifteen  thousand  at  once  consented.  The  dragon 
was  slain,  and  the  reign  of  terror  was  over.  The  king  at  once 
erected  a  church  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  and  St.  George.  A 
fountain  of  water  is  said  to  have  sprung  up  nearby,  in  whose 
waters  the  sick  were  healed. 

The  legend  of  St.  George  and  the  dragon  is  of  the  most 
ancient  date.  It  is  of  Oriental  origin,  and  probably  was  sug- 
gested by  the  apparent  struggle  between  Light  and  Darkness. 
The  similarity  between  this  legend  and  that  of  Perseus  and  An- 
dromeda is  too  marked  to  escape  notice.^ 

The  Lia  Fail. 

The  historic  stone  known  in  Scotland  as  the  ''Stone  of 
Destiny,"  in  Ireland  as  the  ''Lia  Fail,"  in  England  as  "  Jacob'a 
Pillar,"  and  more  generally  as  the  "  Scone,"  is  claimed  by  Irish 
tradition  to  have  been  brought  to  Ireland  by  an  Egyptian  prin- 
cess, who  placed  it  in  Tara's  Hall  six  hundred  years  before  our 
era.  Within  the  hall  of  Tara  once  met  the  kings  and  nobles  of 
Ireland. 

1  Age  of  Fable,  p.  145. 


202  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 

**  The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls 
The  soul  of  music  shed, 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls 
As  if  that  soul  had  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 
So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er, 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise, 
Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more." — Moore. 

The  fate  of  nations  seems  to  have  followed  the  wanderings  of 
this  historic  stone.  Tradition  says  that  Jacob  rested  his  head 
upon  it  the  night  of  his  vision.  It  became  a  part  of  the  furni- 
ture of  the  temple,  and  was  carried  during  the  captivity  by  Jere- 
miah to  Egypt,  and  by  a  princess,  as  we  have  said,  to  Ireland. 
It  was  removed  to  lona  in  the  sixth  century,  that  Fergus,  the 
first  king  of  the  Scots,  might  be  crowned  upon  it.  St.  Columba 
requested,  when  dying,  that  it  might  be  placed  beneath  his  head. 
From  lona  it  was  removed  to  Scotland,  where  all  the  Scottish 
kings  were  crowned  upon  it  for  four  hundred  and  fifty  years. 
The  English  removed  it  in  the  thirteenth  century  to  London, 
where  for  over  five  hundred  years  it  has  seen  service  at  every 
coronation.     There  has  long  been  a  tradition  that 

"Wherever  is  found  this  sacred  stone 
The  Scottish  race  shall  reign." 

Queen  Victoria  is  a  direct  descendant  of  James  VI.  of  Scot- 
land, the  last  of  the  Scottish  kings.  The  stone  is  at  present 
fastened  under  the  coronation  chair  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Robin  Hood. 
Robin  Hood  is  said  to  have  been  a  noted  outlaw  who  lived  at 
the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century.  There  is  so  much  of 
the  legend,  however,  associated  with  his  life,  that  many  doubt 
his  personality  altogether.  He  was  to  England  what  Rob  Roy 
became  to  Scotland  three  centuries  later.  The  historians  ascribe 
to  him  the  title  of  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  which  is  probably, 
like  much  else,  purely  fictitious.  He  drew  about  him  one  hun- 
dred of  the  most  skilled  archers  in  England,  and  made  war  upon 
the  king  and  law.  But  his  robberies  were  confined  solely  to  the 
rich ;  the  poor  he  never  molested,  and  the  weak  found  in  him 
the  bravest  defender. 


ROBIN  HOOD,  203 

"  Robyn  was  a  proude  outlawe, 
Whyles  he  walked  on  grounde, 
So  curteyse  an  outlawe  as  he  was  one 
Was  never  none  yfounde." — Percy's  Reliques. 

His  associates  were  three,  Little  John,  Friar  Tuck,  and 
Marian.  There  was  a  strange  combination  of  religion  and 
honor  associated  with  his  depredations  and  crimes.  Friar  Tuck 
heard  his  daily  confessions.  Little  John  was  his  boldest  robber, 
while  Marian  lives  in  the  old  ballads  as  a  woman  of  great  beauty. 

*'  A  bonny  fine  maid  of  a  noble  degree, 
Maid  Marian  called  by  name, 
Did  live  in  the  North,  of  excellent  worth, 
For  she  was  a  gallant  dame. 
For  favour  and  face  and  beauty  most  rare, 
Queen  Hellen  shee  did  excell, 
For  Marian  then  was  praised  of  all  men, 
That  did  in  the  country  dwell." — Old  Ballad. 

The  outlaw's  death  was  as  romantic  as  his  life.  One  day, 
when  feeling  ill,  he  said  to  Little  John  : 

**But  I  am  not  able  to  shoot  one  shot  more, 
My  arrows  will  not  flee. 
But  I  have  a  cousin  lives  down  below, 
Please  God  she  will  bleed  me." — Percy's  Reliques. 

Robin  Hood  repaired  to  Kirkley-hall  that  he  might  be  bled 
by  his  cousin,  a  nun.  His  cousin,  for  some  reason,  had  deter- 
mined upon  his  death. 

*'  She  took  him  by  the  Uly- white  hand, 
And  let  him  to  a  private  room, 
And  then  she  blooded  bold  Robin  Hood 
Whilst  one  drop  of  blood  would  run. 

"  She  blooded  him  in  the  vein  of  the  arm, 
And  locked  him  up  in  the  room, 
There  did  he  bleed  all  the  live-long  day 
Until  the  next  day  at  noon." — Percy's  Reliques. 

The  robber,  suspecting  his  death  was  intended,  blew  three 
blasts  upon  his  horn  from  the  window.  Little  John  heard  him 
from  the  outside,  and  recognizing  the  faintness  of  the  call,  hast- 


204  KIN^  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

ened  to  the  nunnery.     There  he  found  his  master  dying.     He 
at  once  proposed  that  they  burn  the  nunnery  and  Kirkley-hall. 

«*  <Now  nay,  now  nay,'  quoth  Robin  Hood, 
*  That  boon  1'  11  not  grant  thee  ; 
I  never  hurt  woman  in  all  my  life, 
Nor  man  in  woman's  company.'  " — Percy's  Reliques. 

He  asked  that  he  might  be  carried  to  the  window  and  permitted 
to  shoot  a  final  arrow  before  he  died. 

*'  But  give  me  my  bent  bow  in  my  hand, 
And  a  broad  arrow  I'll  let  flee, 
And  where  this  arrow  is  taken  up. 
There  shall  my  grave  digged  be." — Percy's  Reliques. 

Little  John  bore  his  chief  to  the  window,  and  a  random  arrow 
marked  his  grave.     There  they  buried  Robin  Hood. 

**  Here  underneath  this  little  stone, 
Thro'  Death' s  assaults  now  lieth  one 
Known  by  the  name  of  Robin  Hood, 
Who  was  a  thief  and  archer  good. 
Full  thirty  years  and  something  more 
He  robbed  the  rich  to  feed  the  poor. 
Therefore  his  grave  bedew  with  tears, 
And  offer  for  his  soul  your  prayers." 

— Percy's  Reliques. 

Robin  Hood  and  King  Arthur  have  much  in  common.  Each 
was  a  knight  after  his  own  order ;  but  Arthur  was  the  ideal  of 
the  upper  classes,  while  Robin  Hood  held  the  same  position 
among  the  lower.  Whether  personalities  or  creations,  their 
effect  upon  English  literature  is  beyond  estimate. 

Stone'henge. 

Stonehenge,  a  name  signifying  ^'  hanging  stones,"  is  a  collec- 
tion of  massive  stones  on  Salisbury  Plain  in  England.  These 
stones  are  about  one  hundred  and  forty  in  number,  and  varying 
from  ten  to  seventy  tons  in  weight.  They  are  placed  in  the  form 
of  two  ovals  within  two  circles.  What  they  mean  or  how  they 
came  to  be  in  their  present  position  has  never  been  satisfactorily 
settled. 

Tradition  says  that  they  were  transported  by  Merlin  from  Ire- 


TBE  FORTUNATE  ISLES. 


205 


land  to  form  a  monument  to  Pendragon,  the  brother  of  Uther, 
and  his  predecessor  on  the  throne.  Many  antiquarians,  how- 
ever, believe  Stonehenge  to  have  been  a.Druidic  temple.  If  so, 
it  is  older  by  far  than  any  British  history.  Near  the  centre  of 
the  inner  circle  is  a  stone  slab  fifteen  feet  long,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  the  altar.  Others  claim  that  it  was  an  astro- 
nomical observatory,  and  formed  with  a  view  to  the  location  of 
the  planets.  Should  this  be  true,  it  would  suggest  a  civilization  so 
remote  that  all  traces  of  its  memory  have  perished  from  the  earth. 
A  more  reasonable  theory,  however,  than  any  of  those  men- 


Stonehenge. 

tioned  would  make  these  stones  but  the  ruins  of  some  old  tem- 
ple, where  the  people  once  assembled  not  only  for  worship  but 
council.  Other  stone  circles  have  been  discovered  and  attrib- 
uted to  ages  running  back  from  ten  to  fifty  thousand  years. 
Whatever  the  purpose  of  this  strange  monument  may  have  been, 
it  stands  to-day  for  an  age  and  a  people  whose  name  and  nation- 
ality belong  to  the  silences  of  the  past. 

The  Fortunate  Isles. 

When  King  Arthur  was  about  to  die,  he  asked  to  be  placed  in 
a  barge  and  transported  to  Avalon,  the  Isle  of  the  Blessed.    Ava- 


206  KINO  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Ion  was  but  another  name  for  an  island  which  the  ancients  located 
somewhere  in  the  Western  Sea.  This  legend  is  as  old  as  Homer, 
who  wrote  of  an  Elysian  land  where  there  was  neither  snow  nor 
rain.  Here  the  heroes  became  immortal,  and  lived  in  constant 
sunshine.  This  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Elysium  of  the 
Latins,  which  was  the  blessed  abode  of  the  dead.  The  Gardens 
of  Hesperides,  with  its  golden  apples,  and  the  Fortunate  Isles 
of  Pindar,  a  Greek  poet  who  lived  five  hundred  years  before  our 
era,  are  but  parts  of  this  same  legendary  country.  The  poets  in 
all  ages  have  made  it  the  theme  of  their  most  bewitching  songs : 

**  Fair  land  of  flowers,  land  of  flame, 
Of  sun-born  seas,  of  sea-born  clime, 
Of  clouds  low  shephered  and  tame, 
As  white  pet  sheep  at  shearing  time. 
Of  great,  white,  generous,  high-born  rain. 
Of  rainbows  builded  not  in  vain." — Joaquin  Miller. 

Our  Celtic  forefathers  caught  the  spirit  and  depicted  a  country 
of  the  most  transcendent  splendor.  There  the  inhabitants  knew 
neither  weariness  nor  death. 

'•They  need  not  the  moon  in  that  land  of  delight, 
They  need  not  the  pale,  pale  star. 
The  sun  is  bright,  by  day  and  by  night. 
Where  the  souls  of  the  blessed  are. 

"  They  till  not  the  ground,  they  plow  not  the  wave. 
They  labor  not,  never,  oh,  never, 
Not  a  tear  do  they  shed,  not  a  sigh  do  they  heave, 
They  are  happy  for  ever  and  ever." — Pindar. 

Youths  and  maidens  danced  hand  in  hand  upon  the  grass.  Green 
trees,  laden  with  apples,  formed  a  beautiful  forest,  through  which 
the  sun  shone  in  constant  splendor.  A  fountain  of  perpetual 
youth  flowed  in  the  midst  of  the  island.  There,  too,  was  a 
palace  of  glass  floating  in  the  air,  to  which  went  the  spirits  of 
the  bards.  Taliesin  refers  to  this  same  enchanted  palace,  and 
declares  that  the  spirit  of  Arthur  was  not  confined  to  its  enclo- 
sure. Sometimes  this  palace  was  represented  as  a  glass  moun- 
tain, and  the  early  Teutons  buried  in  the  graves  of  their  dead 
the  claws  of  bears,  with  which  to  assist  the  spirits  in  climbing 


THE  FORTUNATE  ISLES. 


207 


its  crystal  sides.  ^  The  legend  of  Atlantis,  an  island  submerged 
in  the  waters  of  the  Western  Ocean,  is  possibly  of  the  same 
origin.  At  Easter  dawn  it  was  believed  that  cities  arose  to  the 
surface  and  then  disappeared.  Perhaps  no  legend  ever  exerted 
a  greater  or  more  far-reaching  influence  than  this. 

*  S.  Baring-Gould. 


THE  AGE  OF  CHIVALRY. 


PART  11. 
THE  MAB'I-NO^GE-ON. 


(209) 


THE  MAB^I-NO^GE-ON, 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  Britons- 


-Welsh  Literature— 
The  Triads. 


-The  Welsh  Bards— 


The  Britons. 

The  earliest  inhabitants  of  Britain  are  supposed  to  have  been 
a  branch  of  that  great  family  known  in  history  as  Celts.  Cam- 
bria, which  is  a  frequent  name  for  Wales,  is  thought  to  be  de- 
rived from  Cymri,  the  name  which  the  Welsh  traditions  apply 
to  an  immigrant  people  who  entered  the  island  from  the  adjacent 
continent.  This  name  is  thought  to  be  identical  with  those  of 
Cimmerians'  and  Cimbri,  under  which  the  Greek  and  Roman 
historians  describe  a  barbarous  people,  who  spread  themselves 
from  the  north  of  the  Euxine  over  the  whole  of  Northwestern 
Europe. 

The  origin  of  the  names  Wales  and  Welsh  has  been  much  can- 
vassed. Some  writers  make  them  a  derivation  from  Gael  or 
Gaul,  which  names  are  said  to  signify  ^ '  woodlanders  ; "  others 
observe  that  Walsh,  in  the  Northern  languages,  signifies  a 
stranger,  and  that  the  aboriginal  Britains  were  so  called  by  those 
who  at  a  later  year  invaded  the  island  and  possessed  the  greater 
part  of  it,  the  Saxons  and  Angles. 

The  Romans  held  Britain  from  the  invasion  of  Julius  Caesar 
until  the  year  four  hundred  and  twenty, — that  is,  about  five  hun- 
dred years.     In  that  time  there  must  have  been  a  wide  diffusion 

(211) 


2 1 2  THE  MA BINOGEON. 

of  their  arts  and  institutions  among  the  natives.  The  remains 
of  roadi,  cities  and  fortifications  show  that  they  did  much  to 
develop  and  improve  the  country,  while  those  of  their  villas  and 
castles  prove  that  many  of  the  settlers  possessed  wealth  and  taste 
for  the  ornamental  arts.  Yet  the  Roman  sway  was  sustained 
chiefly  by  force,  and  never  extended  over  the  entire  island.  The 
northern  portion,  now  Scotland,  remained  independent,  and  the 
western  portion,  constituting  Wales  and  Cornwall,  was  only 
nominally  subjected. 

Neither  did  the  later  invading  hordes  succeed  in  subduing  the 
remoter  sections  of  the  island.  For  ages  after  the  arrival  of  the 
Saxons  under  Hengist  and  Horsa,  about  the  year  four  hundred 
and  forty  nine,  the  whole  western  coast  of  Britain  was  possessed 
by  the  aboriginal  inhabitants,  engaged  in  constant  warfare  with 
the  invaders. 

It  has,  therefore,  been  a  favorite  boast  of  the  people  of  Wales 
and  Cornv/all,  that  the  original  British  stock  flourishes  in  its 
unmixed  purity  only  among  them.  We  see  this  notion  flashing 
out  in  poetry  occasionally,  as  when  Gray,  in  '^The  Bard,"  pro- 
phetically describing  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  of  the  Tudor, 
a  Welsh  race,  says  : 

**  Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Britain  line  ;" 

and,  contrasting  the  princes  of  the  Tudor  with  those  of  the 
Norman  race,  he  exclaims  : 

"All  hail,  ye  genuine  kings,  Britannia's  issue,  hail !" 

The  W^elsh  Lianguage  and  Literature. 

The  Welsh  language  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Europe.  It  pos- 
sesses poems  the  origin  of  which  is  referred  with  probability  to 
the  sixth  century.  The  language  of  some  of  these  is  so  anti- 
quated, that  the  best  scholars  differ  about  the  interpretation  of 
many  passages ;  but,  generally  speaking,  the  body  of  poetry 
which  the  Welsh  possess,  from  the  year  one  thousand  downwards, 
is  intelligible  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  modern  lan- 
guage. 

Till  within  the  last  ninety  years  these  compositions  remained 
buried  in  the  libraries  of  colleges  or  of  individuals,  and  so  diffi- 


THE  WELSH  BARDS.  21 3 

cult  of  access  that  no  successful  attempt  was  made  to  give  them 
to  the  world.  This  reproach  was  removed,  after  ineffectual 
appeals  to  the  patriotism  of  the  gentry  of  Wales,  by  Owen  Jones, 
a  furrier  of  London,  who  at  his  own  expense  collected  and  pub- 
lished the  chief  productions  of  Welsh  literature,  under  the  title 
of  the  Myvyrian  Archaeology  of  Wales.  In  this  task  he  was 
assisted  by  Dr.  Owen  and  other  Welsh  scholars. 

After  the  cessation  of  Jones's  exertions,  the  old  apathy  re- 
turned. Dr.  Owen  exerted  himself  to  obtain  support  for  the 
publication  of  the  Mabinogeon  or  Prose  Tales  of  the  Welsh,  but 
died  without  accomplishing  his  purpose,  which  has  since  been 
carried  into  execution  by  Lady  Charlotte  Guest.  The  legends 
which  fill  the  remainder  of  this  volume  are  taken  from  this 
work,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken  more  fully  in  the  intro- 
ductory chapter  to  the  First  Part. 

The  Welsh  Bards. 

The  authors  to  whom  the  oldest  Welsh  poems  are  attributed 
are  Aneurin,  who  is  supposed  to  have  lived  about  the  middle  of 
the  sixth  century,  and  Taliesin,  Llywarch  Hen  (Llywarch  the 
Aged),  and  Myrddin  or  Merlin,  who  were  a  few  years  later. 
The  authenticity  of  the  poems  which  bear  their  names  has  been 
assailed,  and  it  is  still  an  open  question  how  many  and  which  of 
them  are  authentic,  though  it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  some 
are  so.  The  poem  of  Aneurin  entitled  the  **Gododin"  bears 
very  strong  marks  of  authenticity.  Aneurin  was  one  of  the 
Northern  Britons,  who  have  left  to  that  part  of  the  district  they 
inhabited  the  name  of  Cumberland,  or  Land  of  the  Cymri.  In 
this  poem  he  laments  the  defeat  of  his  countrymen  by  the 
Saxons  at  the  battle  of  Cattraeth,  in  consequence  of  having  par- 
taken too  freely  of  the  mead  before  joining  in  combat.  The 
bard  himself  and  two  of  his  fellow-warriors  were  all  who  escaped 
from  the  field.  A  portion  of  this  poem  has  been  translated  by 
Gray,  of  which  the  following  is  an  extract : 

"To  Cattraeth' s  vale,  in  glittering  row, 
Twice  two  hundred  warriors  go  ; 
Every  warrior's  manly  neck 
Chains  of  regal  honor  deck, 
Wreathed  in  many  a  golden  link  ; 


2 14  THE  MABINOGEON. 

From  the  golden  cup  they  drink 
Nectar  that  the  l^ees  produce, 
Or  the  grape's  exalted  juice. 
Flushed  with  mirth  and  hope  they  bum, 
But  none  to  Cattraelh'  s  vale  return. 
Save  Aeron  brave,  and  Conan  strong. 
Bursting  through  the  bloody  throng, 
And  I,  the  meanest  of  them  all, 
That  live  to  weep,  and  sing  their  fall." 

The  works  of  Taliesin,  whom  Tennyson  terms  ''our  fuUesi 
throat  of  song,"  are  of  much  more  questionable  authenticity. 
There  is  a  story  of  the  adventures  of  Taliesin  so  strongly  marked 
with  mythical  traits  as  to  cast  suspicion  on  the  writings  attrib- 
uted to  him.     This  story  will  be  found  in  the  subsequent  pages. 

The  Triads. 

The  Triads  are  a  peculiar  species  of  poetical  composition,  of 
which  the  Welsh  bards  have  left  numerous  examples.  They  are 
enumerations  of  a  triad  of  persons,  or  events,  or  observations, 
strung  together  in  one  short  sentence.  This  form  of  composi- 
tion, originally  invented,  in  all  likelihood,  to  assist  the  memory, 
has  been  raised  by  the  Welsh  to  a  degree  of  elegance  of  which  it 
hardly  at  first  sight  appears  susceptible.  The  Triads  are  of  all 
ages,  some  of  them  probably  as  old  as  anything  in  the  language. 
Short  as  they  are  individually,  the  collection  in  the  Myvyrian 
Archaeology  occupies  more  than  one  hundred  and  seventy  pages 
of  double  columns.  We  will  give  some  specimens,  beginning 
with  personal  triads,  and  giving  the  first  place  to  one  of  Kmg 
Arthur's  own  composition : 

**  I  have  three  heroes  in  battle  : 
Mael  the  tall,  and  Llyr,  with  his  army. 
And  Caradoc,  the  pillar  of  Wales." 

The  three  principal  bards  of  the  island  of  Britain  are  given  as 

*  *  Merlin  Ambrose 
Merlin  the  son  of  Morfyn,  called  also  Merlin  the  Wild, 
And  Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards." 

The  three  golden-tongued  knights  of  King  Arthur's  court  are 
said  to  have  been 


THE  TRIADS,  215 

**Gawain,  son  of  Gwyar, 
Drydvas,  son  of  Tryphin, 
And  Eliwlod,  son  of  Madag,  ap  Uther." 

The  three  great  feasts  of  the  isle  of  Britain  fall  under  this  same 
rule  of  three : 

*'  The  feast  of  Caswallaun,  after  repelling  Julius  Caesar  from  this  isle  ; 
The  feast  of  Aurelius  Ambrosius,  after  he  had  conquered  the  Saxons  ; 
And  the  feast  of  King  Arthur,  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk." 

Some  of  this  composition  is  not  only  highly  poetic,  but,  con- 
sidering the  age,  remarkably  philosophic  : 

**  Hast  thou  heard  what  Dremhidydd  sung, 
An  ancient  watchman  on  the  castle  walls  ? 
A  refusal  is  better  than  a  promise  unperformed." 

**  Hast  thou  heard  what  Llenleawg  sung, 
The  noble  chief  wearing  the  golden  torques  ? 
The  grave  is  better  than  a  life  of  want." 

**  Hast  thou  heard  what  Garselit  sung, 
The  Irishman  whom  it  is  safe  to  follow? 
Sin  is  bad,  if  long  pursued." 

**  Hast  thou  heard  what  Avaon  sung  ? 
The  son  of  Taliesin,  of  the  recording  verse? 
The  cheek  will  not  conceal  the  anguish  of  the  heart." 

*' Didst  thou  hear  what  Llywarch  sung, 
The  intrepid  and  brave  old  man  ? 
Greet  kindly,  though  there  be  no  acquaintance." 

The  number  three  had  a  peculiar  fascination  for  our  Celtic  an- 
cestors. They  bound  up  their  ideas  in  sheaves  of  three.  As 
poets  they  have  exerted  but  little  influence  upon  the  world, 
although  much  that  they  said  is  worthy  a  lasting  place  in  any 
language.  The  following  could  not  well  be  improved  upon,  either 
for  conciseness  or  keenness  of  observation  : 

**The  three  foundations  of  genius  :  The  gift  of  God,  human  exertion,  and 
the  results  of  life." 

**  The  three  pillars  of  judgment :  Bold  design,  frequent  practice,  and  fre- 
quent mistakes." 


2l6 


THE  MABINOGEON. 


'*The  three  first  requisites  of  genius  :  An  eye  to  see  nature,  a  heart  to  feel 
it,  and  a  resolution  that  dares  to  follow." 

**  The  three  pillars  of  learning  :  Seeing  much,  suffering  much,  and  studying 
much." 

"The  three  qualifications  of  poetry:  Endowment  of  genius,  judgment 
from  experience,  and  felicity  of  thought." — Llywarch  Hen. 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  Lady  of  the  Fountain. 

Ky'non's  Adventure. 

King  Arthur  was  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk ;  and  one  day  he 
sat  in  his  chamber,  and  with  him  were  Owain  the  son  of  Urien, 
and  Kynon  the  son  of  Clydno,  and  Kay  the  son  of  Kyner,  and 
Guinevere  and  her  handmaidens  at  needlework  by  the  window. 
In  the  centre^  of  the  chamber  King  Arthur  sat  upon  a  seat  of 
green  rushes/  over  which  was  spread  a  covering  of  flame-colored 
satin,  and  a  cushion  of  red  satin  was  under  his  elbow. 

Then  Arthur  spoke.  "  If  I  thought  you  would  not  disparage 
me,"  said  he,  ''I  would  sleep  while  I  wait  for  my  repast ;  and 
you  can  entertain  one  another  with  relating  tales,  and  can  obtain 
a  flagon  of  mead  and  some  meat  from  Kay. ' '  And  the  king 
went  to  sleep.  And  Kynon  the  son  of  Clydno  asked  Kay  for 
that  which  Arthur  had  promised  them.  ''I  too  will  have  the 
good  tale  which  he  promised  me,"  said  Kay.  "Nay,"  answered 
Kynon;  "  fairer  will  it  be  for  thee  to  fulfil  Arthur's  behest  in 
the  first  place,  and  then  we  will  tell  thee  the  best  tale  that  we 
know."  ''  Now,"  said  Kay,  "it  is  time  for  you  to  give  me  my 
story."  "Kynon,"  said  Owain,  "do  thou  pay  to  Kay  the  tale 
that  is  his  due."      "  I  will  do  so,"  answered  Kynon. 

"  I  was  the  only  son  of  my  mother  and  father,  and  I  was  ex- 
ceedingly aspiring,  and  my  daring  was  very  great.     I  thought 

1  The  custom  of  strewing  the  floor  with  rushes  is  well  known  to  have  ex- 
isted in  England  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  also  in  France. 

(217) 


2 1 8  THE  MABINOOEON. 

there  was  no  enterprise  in  the  world  too  mighty  for  me,  and  after 
I  had  achieved  all  the  adventures  that  were  in  my  own  country, 
I  equipped  myself,  and  set  forth  to  journey  through  deserts  and 
distant  regions.  And  at  length  it  chanced  that  I  came  to  the 
fairest  valley  in  the  world,  wherein  were  trees  all  of  equal  growth; 
and  a  river  ran  through  the  valley,  and  a  path  was  by  the  side  of 
the  river.  And  I  followed  the  path  until  midday,  and  continued 
my  journey  along  the  remainder  of  the  valley  until  the  evening  ; 
and  at  the  extremity  of  a  plain  I  came  to  a  large  and  lustrous 
castle,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  torrent.  And  I  approached 
the  castle,  and  there  I  beheld  two  youths  with  yellow  curling 
hair,  each  with  a  frontlet  of  gold  upon  his  head,  and  clad  in  a 
garment  of  yellow  satin,  and  they  had  gold  clasps  upon  their  in- 
steps. In  the  hand  of  each  of  them  was  an  ivory  bow,  strung 
with  the  sinews  of  the  stag,  and  their  arrows  and  their  shafts 
were  of  the  bone  of  the  whale,  and  were  winged  with  peacock's 

feathers. 

**  A  shefe  of  peacock  arrows  bright  and  kene 
Under  his  belt  he  bare  ful  thriftily." — Chaucer. 

The  shafts  also  had  golden  heads.  And  they  had  daggers  with 
blades  of  gold,  and  with  hilts  of  the  bone  of  the  whale.  And 
they  were  shooting  at  a  mark. 

"And  a  little  away  from  them  I  saw  a  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  with  his  beard  newly  shorn,  clad  in  a  robe  and  mantle  of 
yellow  satin,  and  round  the  top  of  his  mantle  was  a  band  of  gold 
lace.  On  his  feet  were  shoes  of  variegated  leather,  fastened  by 
two  bosses  of  gold.  When  I  saw  him  I  went  towards  him  and 
saluted  him ;  and  such  was  his  courtesy,  that  he  no  sooner  re- 
ceived my  greeting  than  he  returned  it.  And  he  went  with  me 
towards  the  castle.  Now  there  were  no  dwellers  in  the  castle, 
except  those  who  were  in  one  hall  And  there  I  saw  four  and 
twenty  damsels,  embroidering  satin  at  a  window.  And  this  I 
tell  thee,  Kay,  that  the  least  fair  of  them  was  fairer  than  the 
fairest  maid  thou  didst  ever  behold  in  the  island  of  Britain  ;  and 
the  least  lovely  of  them  was  more  lovely  than  Guinevere,  the 
wife  of  Arthur,  when  she  appeared  loveliest,  at  the  feast  of 
Easter.  They  rose  up  at  my  coming,  and  six  of  them  took  my 
horse,  and  divested  me  of  my  armor,  and  six  others  took  my 
arms,  and  washed  them  in  a  vessel  till  they  were  perfectly  bright. 


KYNON'S  ADVENTURE.  219 

And  the  third  six  spread  cloths  upon  the  tables  and  prepared 
meat.  And  the  fourth  six  took  off  my  soiled  garments  and 
placed  others  upon  me,  namely,  an  under-vest  and  a  doublet  of 
fine  linen,  and  a  robe  and  a  surcoat,  and  a  mantle  of  yellow 
satin,  with  a  broad  gold  band  upon  the  mantle.  And  they  placed 
cushions  both  beneath  and  around  me,  with  coverings  of  rec. 
linen.  And  I  sat  down.  Now  the  six  maidens  who  had  taken 
my  horse  unharnessed  him  as  well  as  if  they  had  been  the  best 
squires  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

'^Then  behold  they  brought  bowls  of  silver,  wherein  was 
water  to  wash,  and  towels  of  linen,  some  green  and  some  white ; 
and  I  washed.  And  in  a  little  while  the  man  sat  down  at  the 
table.  And  I  sat  next  to  him,  and  below  me  sat  all  the  maidens, 
except  those  who  waited  on  us.  And  the  table  was  of  silver, 
and  the  cloths  upon  the  table  were  of  linen.  And  no  vessel  was 
served  upon  the  table  that  was  not  either  of  gold  or  of  silver 
or  of  buffalo-horn : 

**The  highly-honored  bufifalo-horn,  Hirlas, 
Enriched  with  ancient  silver." — Kyveiliog. 

And  our  meat  was  brought  to  us.  And  verily,  Kay,  I  saw  there 
every  sort  of  meat  and  every  sort  of  liquor  that  I  ever  saw  else- 
where ;  but  the  meat  and  the  liquor  were  better  served  there  than 
I  ever  saw  them  in  any  other  place. 

**  Until  the  repast  was  half  over,  neither  the  man  nor  any  one 
of  the  damsels  spoke  a  single  word  to  me  ;  but  when  the  man  per- 
ceived that  it  would  be  more  agreeable  for  me  to  converse  than 
to  eat  any  more,  he  began  to  inquire  of  me  who  I  was.  Then 
I  told  the  man  who  I  was,  and  what  was  the  cause  of  my  journey, 
and  said  that  I  was  seeking  whether  any  one  was  superior  to  me, 
or  whether  I  could  gain  the  mastery  over  all.  The  man  looked 
upon  me,  and  he  smiled  and  said,  *  If  I  did  not  fear  to  do  thee 
a  mischief,  I  would  show  thee  that  which  thou  seekest.'  Then 
I  desired  him  to  speak  freely.  And  he  said  :  *  Sleep  here 
to-night,  and  in  the  morning  arise  early,  and  take  the  road  up- 
wards through  the  valley,  until  thou  reachest  the  wood.  A  little 
way  within  the  wood  thou  wilt  come  to  a  large  sheltered  glade, 
with  a  mound  in  the  centre.  And  thou  wilt  see  a  black  man  of 
great  stature  on  the  top  of  the  mound.     He  has  but  one  foot, 


220  THE  MABINOGEON. 

and  one  eye  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead.  He  is  the  wood- 
ward of  that  wood.  And  thou  wilt  see  a  thousand  wild  animals 
grazing  around  him.  Inquire  of  him  the  way  out  of  the  glade, 
and  he  will  reply  to  thee  briefly,  and  will  point  out  the  road  by 
which  thou  shalt  find  that  which  thou  art  in  quest  of.' 

**  And  long  seemed  that  night  to  me.  And  the  next  morning 
I  arose  and  equipped  myself,  and  mounted  my  horse,  and  pro- 
ceeded straight  through  the  valley  to  the  wood,  and  at  length  I 
arrived  at  the  glade. 

*  *  Deep  in  the  forest  was  a  little  dell 
High  overarched  with  the  leafy  sweep 
Of  a  broad  oak,  through  whose  gnarled  roots  there  fell 
A  slender  rill  that  sung  itself  asleep, 
"Where  its  continuous  toil  had  scooped  a  well 
To  please  the  fairy  folk  ;  breathlessly  deep 
The  stillness  was,  save  when  the  dreaming  brook 
From  its  small  urn  a  drizzly  murmur  shook." — Lowell. 

And  the  black  man  was  there,  sitting  upon  the  top  of  the 
mound ;  and  I  was  three  times  more  astonished  at  the  number 
of  wild  animals  that  I  beheld  than  the  man  had  said  I  should  be. 
Then  I  inquired  of  him  the  way,  and  he  asked  me  roughly 
whither  I  would  go.  And  when  I  had  told  him  who  I  was, 
and  what  I  sought,  'Take,'  said  he,  *  that  path  that  leads  to- 
ward the  head  of  the  glade,  and  there  thou  wilt  find  an  open 
space  like  to  a  large  valley,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  tall  tree. 
Under  this  tree  is  a  fountain,  and  by  the  side  of  the  fountain  a 
marble  slab,  and  on  the  marble  slab  a  silver  bowl,  attached  by 
a  chain  of  silver,  that  it  may  not  be  carried  away.  Take  the 
bowl,  and  throw  a  bowlful  of  water  on  the  slab.  And  if  thou 
dost  not  find  trouble  in  that  adventure,  thou  needest  not  seek  it 
during  the  rest  of  thy  life.' 

**  So  I  journeyed  on  until  I  reached  the  summit  of  the  steep. 
And  there  I  found  everything  as  the  black  man  had  described  it 
to  me.  And  I  went  up  to  the  tree,  and  beneath  it  I  saw  the 
fountain,  and  by  its  side  the  marble  slab,  and  the  silver  bowl 
fastened  by  the  chain.  Then  I  took  the  bowl,  and  cast  a  bowl- 
ful of  water  upon  the  slab.  And  immediately  I  heard  a  mighty 
peal  of  thunder,  so  that  heaven  and  earth  seemed  to  tremble 
with  its  fury.     And  after  the  thunder  came  a  shower ;  and  of  a 


KYNON'S  ADVENTURE.  221 

truth  I  tell  thee,  Kay,  that  it  was  such  a  shower  as  neither  man 
nor  beast  could  endure  and  live. 

*'  Through  tattered  foliage  the  hail  tears  crashing, 
The  blue  lightning  flashes, 
The  rapid  hail  clashes, 
The  white  waves  are  tumbling, 
And,  in  one  baffled  roar. 
Like  the  toothless  sea  mumbling 
A  rock-bristled  shore. 
The  thunder  is  rumbling 
And  crashing  and  crumbling, — 
Will  silence  return  never  more?" — Lowell. 

I  turned  my  horse's  flank  toward  the  shower,  and  placed  the 
beak  of  my  shield  over  his  head  and  neck,  while  I  held  the  upper 
part  of  it  over  my  own  neck.  And  thus  I  withstood  the  shower. 
And  presently  the  sky  became  clear,  and  with  that,  behold,  the 
birds  lighted  upon  the  tree,  and  sang.  And  truly,  Kay,  I  never 
heard  any  melody  equal  to  that,  either  before  or  since.  And  when 
I  was  most  charmed  with  listening  to  the  birds,  lo  !  a  chiding 
voice  was  heard  of  one  approaching  me,  and  saying  :  *  O  knight, 
what  has  brought  thee  hither  ?  What  evil  have  I  done  to  thee, 
that  thou  shouldst  act  towards  me  and  my  possessions  as  thou  hast 
this  day  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  shower  to-day  has  left  in 
my  dominions  neither  man  nor  beast  alive  that  was  exposed  to 
it  ?'  And  thereupon,  behold,  a  knight  on  a  black  horse  appeared, 
clothed  in  jet-black  velvet,  and  with  a  tabard  of  black  linen  about 
him.  And  we  charged  each  other,  and,  as  the  onset  was  furious, 
it  was  not  long  before  I  was  overthrown.  Then  the  knight 
passed  the  shaft  of  his  lance  through  the  bridle-rein  of  my  horse, 
and  rode  off  with  the  two  horses,  leaving  me  where  I  was.  And 
he  did  not  even  bestow  so  much  notice  upon  me  as  to  imprison 
me,  nor  did  he  despoil  me  of  my  arms.  So  I  returned  along 
the  road  by  which  I  had  come.  And  when  I  reached  the  glade 
where  the  black  man  was,  I  confess  to  thee,  Kay,  it  is  a  marvel 
that  I  did  not  melt  down  into  a  liquid  pool,  through  the  shame 
that  I  felt  at  the  black  man's  derison.  And  that  night  I  came 
to  the  same  castle  where  I  had  spent  the  night  preceding.  And 
I  was  more  agreeably  entertained  that  night  than  I  had  been  the 
night  before.     And  I  conversed  freely  with  the  inmates  of  the 


222  THE  MABINOOEON. 

castle  ;  and  none  of  them  alluded  to  my  expedition  to  the  foun- 
tain, neither  did  I  mention  it  to  any.  And  I  remained  there 
that  night.  When  I  arose  on  the  morrow,  I  found  ready  saddled 
a  dark  bay  palfrey,  with  nostrils  as  red  as  scarlet.  And  after 
putting  on  my  armor,  and  leaving  there  my  blessing,  I  returned 
to  my  own  court.  And  that  horse  I  still  possess,  and  he  is  in 
the  stable  yonder.  And  I  declare  that  I  would  not  part  with 
him  for  the  best  palfrey  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

"  Now,  of  a  truth,  Kay,  no  man  ever  before  confessed  to  an 
adventure  so  much  to  his  own  discredit ;  and  verily  it  seems 
strange  to  me  that  neither  before  nor  since  have  I  heard  of  any 
person  who  knew  of  this  adventure,  and  that  the  subject  of  it 
should  exist  within  King  Arthur's  dominions  without  any  other 
person  lighting  upon  it.'* 


CHAPTER  III. 
The  Lady  of  the   Fountain  (Continued). 

O'wain's  Adventure. 

'*Now,"  quoth  Owain,  "would  it  not  be  well  to  go  and 
endeavor  to  discover  that  place  ?' ' 

**By  the  hand  of  my  friend,"  said  Kay,  "often  dost  thou 
utter  that  with  ^thy  tongue  which  thou  wouldest  not  make  good 
with  thy  deeds. ' ' 

"  In  very  truth, "  said  Guinevere,  "  it  were  better  thou  wert 
hanged,  Kay,  than  to  use  such  uncourteous  speech  towards  a  man 
like  Owain. ' ' 

"By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  good  lady,"  said  Kay,  "thy 
praise  of  Owain  is  not  greater  than  mine. ' ' 

With  that  Arthur  awoke,  and  asked  if  he  had  not  been  sleep- 
ing a  little. 

"Yes,  lord,"  answered  Owain,  "thou  hast  slept  awhile." 

"  Is  it  time  for  us  to  go  to  meat?" 

"  It  is,  lord,"  said  Owain. 

Then  the  horn  for  washing  was  sounded,*  and  the  king  and  all 
his  household  sat  down  to  eat.  And  when  the  meal  was  ended, 
Owain  withdrew  to  his  lodging,  and  made  ready  his  horse  and 
his  arms. 

On  the  morrow  with  the  dawn  of  day  he  put  on  his  armor, 
and  mounted  his  charger,  and  travelled  through  distant  lands, 

*  Dinner  was  always  preceded  by  washing  the  hands  at  the  signal  of  a  horn. 

(  223  ) . 


224  THE  MASmoOEON. 

and  over  desert  mountains.  And  at  length  he  arrived  at  the 
valley  which  Kynon  had  described  to  him,  and  he  was  certain 
that  it  was  the  same  that  he  sought.  And  journeying  along  the 
valley,  by  the  side  of  the  river,  he  followed  its  course  till  he 
came  to  the  plain,  and  within  sight  of  the  castle.  When  he 
approached  the  castle,  he  saw  the  youths  shooting  with  their 
bows,  in  the  place  where  Kynon  had  seen  them,  and  the  yellow 
man,  to  whom  the  castle  belonged,  standing  hard  by.  And  no 
sooner  had  Owain  saluted  the  yellow  man  than  he  was  saluted 
by  him  in  return. 

And  he  went  forward  towards  the  castle,  and  there  he  saw 
the  chamber ;  and  when  he  had  entered  the  chamber,  he  beheld 
the  maidens  working  at  satin  embroidery,  in  chains  of  gold. 
And  their  beauty  and  their  comeliness  seemed  to  Owain  far 
greater  than  Kynon  had  represented  to  him.  And  they  arose  to 
wait  upon  Owain,  as  they  had  done  to  Kynon.  And  the  meal 
which  they  set  before  him  gave  even  more  satisfaction  to  Owain 
than  it  had  done  to  Kynon. 

About  the  middle  of  the  repast  the  yellow  man  asked  Owain 
the  object  of  his  journey.  And  Owain  made  it  known  to  him, 
and  said,  ^'I  am  in  quest  of  the  knight  who  guards  the  foun- 
tain." Upon  this  the  yellow  man  smiled,  and  said  that  he  was 
as  loath  to  point  out  that  adventure  to  him  as  he  had  been  to 
Kynon.  However,  he  described  the  whole  to  Owain,  and  they 
retired  to  rest. 

The  next  morning  Owain  found  his  horse  made  ready  for  him 
by  the  damsels,  and  he  set  forward  and  came  to  the  glade  where 
the  black  man  was.  And  the  stature  of  the  black  man  seemed 
more  wonderful  to  Owain  than  it  had  done  to  Kynon  ;  and 
Owain  asked  of  him  his  road,  and  he  showed  it  to  him.  And 
Owain  followed  the  road  till  he  came  to  the  green  tree ;  and  he 
beheld  the  fountain,  and  the  slab  beside  the  fountain,  with  the 
bowl  upon  it.  And  Owain  took  the  bowl  and  threw  a  bowlful 
of  water  upon  the  slab.  And  lo  !  the  thunder  was  heard,  and 
after  the  thunder  came  the  shower,  more  violent  than  Kynon  had 
described,  and  after  the  shower  the  sky  became  bright.  And 
immediately  the  birds  came  and  settled  upon  the  tree  and  sang. 

**  Never  black  birds,  never  thrushes, 
Nor  small  finches,  sing  as  sweet 


0  WAIN'S  AD  VENTURE.  2  2  5 

When  the  sun  strikes  through  the  bushes 
To  their  crimson,  clinging  feet, 
And  their  pretty  eyes  look  sideways  to  the 
summer  heavens  complete." 

— Mrs.  E.  B.  Browning. 

And  when  their  song  was  most  pleasing  to  Owain,  he  beheld  a 
knight  coming  towards  him  through  the  valley  ;  and  he  prepared 
to  receive  him,  and  encountered  him  violently.  Having  broken 
both  their  lances,  they  drew  their  swords  and  fought  blade  to 
blade.  Then  Owain  struck  the  knight  a  blow,  through  his 
helmet,  head-piece,  and  visor,  and  through  the  skin,  and  the 
flesh,  and  the  bone,  until  it  wounded  the  very  brain.  Then  the 
black  knight  felt  that  he  had  received  a  mortal  wound,  upon 
which  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  fled.  And  Owain  pursued 
him,  and  followed  close  upon  him,  although  he  was  not  near 
enough  to  strike  him  with  his  sword.  Then  Owain  descried  a 
vast  and  resplendent  castle ;  and  they  came  to  the  castle  gate. 
And  the  black  knight  was  allowed  to  enter,  and  the  portcullis 
was  let  fall  upon  Owain;  and  it  struck  hi>  horse  behind  the 
saddle,  and  cut  him  in  two,  and  carried  away  the  rowels  of  the 
spurs  that  were  upon  Owain's  heels.  And  the  portcullis  de- 
scended to  the  floor.  And  the  rowels  of  the  spurs  and  part  of 
the  horse  were  without,  and  Owain  with  the  other  part  of  the 
horse  remained  between  the  two  gates,  and  the  inner  gate  was 
closed,  so  that  Owain  could  not  go  thence  ;  and  Owain  was  in  a 
perplexing  situation.  And  while  he  was  in  this  state,  he  could 
see  through  an  aperture  in  the  gate  a  street  facing  him,  with  a 
row  of  houses  on  each  side.  And  he  beheld  a  maiden,  with 
yellow,  curling  hair,  and  a  frontlet  of  gold  upon  her  head  ;  and 
she  was  clad  in  a  dress  of  yellow  satin,  and  on  her  feet  were 
shoes  of  variegated  leather.  And  she  approached  the  gate,  and 
desired  that  it  should  be  opened.  ''  Heaven  knows,  lady,"  said 
Owain,  ''it  is  no  more  possible  forme  to  open  to  thee  from 
hence  than  it  is  for  thee  to  set  me  free."  And  he  told  her  his 
name,  and  who  he  was.  "  Truly,"  said  the  damsel,  ''it  is  very 
sad  that  thou  canst  not  be  released  ;  and  every  woman  ought  to 
succor  thee,  for  I  know  there  is  no  one  more  faithful  in  the  ser- 
vice of  ladies  than  thou.  Therefore,"  quoth  she,  "whatever  is 
in  my  power  to  do  for  thy  release,  I  will  do  it.     Take  this  ring 


226  THE  MABTNOGEON. 

and  put  it  on  thy  finger,  with  the  stone  inside  thy  hand,  and 
close  thy  hand  upon  the  stone.  And  as  long  as  thou  concealest 
it,  it  will  conceal  thee.  When  they  come  torth  to  fetch  thee, 
they  will  be  much  grieved  that  they  cannot  find  thee.  And  I 
will  await  thee  on  the  horseblock  yonder,  and  thou  wilt  be  able 
to  see  me,  though  I  cannot  see  thee.  Therefore  come  and  place 
thy  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  that  I  may  know  that  thou  art  near 
me.  And  by  the  way  that  I  go  hence,  do  thou  accompany 
me. 

Then  the  maiden  went  away  from  Owain,  and  he  did  all  that 
she  had  told  him.  And  the  people  of  the  castle  came  to  seek 
Owain  to  put  him  to  death ;  and  when  they  found  nothing  but 
the  half  of  his  horse,  they  were  sorely  grieved. 

And  Owain  vanished  from  among  them,  and  went  to  the 
maiden,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder ;  whereupon  she 
set  off,  and  Owain  followed  her,  until  they  came  to  the  door  of 
a  large  and  beautiful  chamber,  and  the  maiden  opened  it,  and 
they  went  in.  And  Owain  looked  around  the  chamber,  and  be- 
hold there  was  not  a  single  nail  in  it  that  was  not  painted  with 
gorgeous  colors,  and  there  was  not  a  single  panel  that  had  not 
sundry  images  in  gold  portrayed  upon  it. 

The  maiden  kindled  a  fire,  and  took  water  in  a  silver  bowl, 
and  gave  Owain  water  to  wash.  Then  she  placed  before  him  a 
silver  table,  inlaid  with  gold  ;  upon  which  was  a  cloth  of  yellow 
linen,  and  she  brought  him  food.  And,  of  a  truth,  Owain  never 
saw  any  kind  of  meat  that  was  not  there  in  abundance,  but  it  was 
better  cooked  there  than  he  had  ever  found  it  in  any  other  place. 
And  there  was  not  one  vessel  from  which  he  was  served  that  was 
not  of  gold  or  of  silver.  And  Owain  eat  and  drank  until  late 
in  the  afternoon,  when,  lo !  they  heard  a  mighty  clamor  in  the 
castle,  and  Owain  asked  the  maiden  what  it  was.  '*  They  are 
administering  extreme  unction,"  said  she,  '*to  the  nobleman 
who  owns  the  castle."  And  she  prepared  a  couch  for  Owain 
which  was  meet  for  Arthur  himself,  and  Owain  went  to  sleep. 

And  a  little  after  daybreak  he  heard  an  exceeding  loud 
clamor  and  wailing,  and  he  asked  the  maiden  what  was  the  cause 
of  it.  *'  They  are  bearing  to  the  church  the  body  of  the  noble- 
man who  owned  the  castle. ' ' 

And  Owain  rose  up,  and  clothed  himself,  and  opened  a  window 


OWAWS  ADVENTURE.  22^ 

of  the  chamber,  and  looked  towards  the  castle ;  and  he  could 
see  neither  the  bounds  nor  the  extent  of  the  hosts  that  filled  the 
streets.  And  they  were  fully  armed  ;  and  a  vast  number  of 
women  were  with  them,  both  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  and  all 
the  ecclesiastics  in  the  city  singing.  In  the  midst  of  the  throng 
he  beheld  the  bier,  over  which  was  a  veil  of  white  linen  ;  and 
wax  tapers  were  burning  beside  and  around  it ;  and  none  that 
supported  the  bier  was  lower  in  rank  than  a  powerful  baron. 

Never  did  Owain  see  an  assemblage  so  gorgeous  with  silk  and 
satin.  And,  following  the  train,  he  beheld  a  lady  with  yellow 
hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  and  stained  with  blood ;  and 
about  her  a  dress  of  yellow  satin,  which  was  torn.  Upon  her 
feet  were  shoes  of  variegated  leather.  And  it  was  a  marvel  that 
the  ends  of  her  fingers  were  not  bruised  from  the  violence  with 
which  she  smote  her  hands  together.  Truly  she  would  have  been 
the  fairest  lady  Owain  ever  saw,  had  she  been  in  her  usual  guise. 
And  her  cry  was  louder  than  the  shout  of  the  men  or  the  clamor 
of  the  trumpets.  No  sooner  had  he  beheld  the  lady  than  he 
became  inflamed  with  her  love,  so  that  it  took  entire  possession 
of  him. 

Then  he  inquired  of  the  maiden  who  the  lady  was.  ''  Heaven 
knows,"  replied  the  maiden,  ''she  is  the  fairest,  and  the  most 
chaste,  and  the  most  liberal,  and  the  most  noble  of  women. 
She  is  my  mistress,  and  she  is  called  the  Countess  of  the  Foun- 
tain, the  wife  of  him  whom  thou  didst  slay  yesterday." 
**  Verily,"  said  Owain,  ''she  is  the  woman  that  I  love  best." 
"Verily,"  said  the  maiden,  "she  shall  also  love  thee,  not  a 
little." 

Then  the  maiden  prepared  a  repast  for  Owain,  and  truly  he 
thought  he  had  never  before  so  good  a  meal,  nor  was  he  ever  so 
well  served.  Then  she  left  him,  and  went  towards  the  castle. 
^When  she  came  there,  she  found  nothing  but  mourning  and  sor- 
row ;  and  the  countess  in' her  chamber  could  not  bear  the  sight 
of  any  one  through  grief.  Luned,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the 
maiden,  saluted  her,  but  the  countess  answered  her  not. 

**  Alas  !  for  the  loss  of  her  who  was  equal  to  Luned, 
That  gem  of  light." — Welsh  Bard, 

And  the  maiden  bent  down  towards  her,"  and  said,  "  What  aileth 


228  THE  MABINOGEOK. 

thee,  that  thou  answerest  no  one  to-day?"  '*  Luned,"  said  the 
countess,  ' '  what  change  hath  befallen  thee,  that  thou  hast  not 
come  to  visit  me  in  my  grief?  It  was  wrong  in  thee,  and  I  so 
sorely  afflicted."  '* Truly,"  said  Luned,  *'I  thought  thy  good 
sense  was  greater  than  I  find  it  to  be.  Is  it  well  for  thee  to 
mourn  after  that  good  man,  or  for  anything  else  that  thou  canst 
not  have?"  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  the  countess,  "that 
in  the  whole  world  there  is  not  a  man  equal  to  him."  ''  Not 
so,"  said  Luned,  '*for  an  ugly  man  would  be  as  good  as,  or 
better  than  he."  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  the  countess, 
'*that  were  it  not  repugnant  to  me  to  put  to  death  one  whom  I 
have  brought  up,  I  would  have  thee  executed  for  making  such  a 
comparison  to  me.  As  it  is,  I  will  banish  thee."  ''  I  am  glad," 
said  Luned,  ''  that  thou  hast  no  other  cause  to  do  so  than  that  I 
would  have  been  of  service  to  thee,  where  thou  didst  not  know 
what  was  to  thine  advantage.  Henceforth,  evil  betide  whichever 
of  us  shall  make  the  first  advance  towards  reconciliation  to  the 
other,  whether  I  should  seek  an  invitation  from  thee,  or  thou  of 
thine  own  accord  shouldst  send  to  invite  me. ' ' 

With  that  Luned  went  forth  ;  and  the  countess  arose  and  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  door  of  the  chamber,  and  began  coughing 
loudly.  And  when  Luned  looked  back,  the  countess  beckoned 
to  her,  and  she  returned  to  the  countess.  ''In  truth,"  said 
the  countess,  ''evil  is  thy  disposition;  but  if  thou  knowest 
what  is  to  my  advantage,  declare  it  to  me."  "I  will  do  so," 
said  she. 

"Thou  knowest  that,  except  by  warfare  and  arms,  it  is  im- 
possible for  thee  to  preserve  thy  possessions ;  delay  not,  there- 
fore, to  seek  some  one  who  can  defend  them."  "  And  how  can 
I  do  that?"  said  the  countess.  "  I  will  tell  thee,"  said  Luned  ; 
"unless  thou  canst  defend  the  fountain,  thou  canst  not  maintain 
thy  dominions  ;  and  no  one  can  defend  the  fountain  except  it  be 
a  knight  of  Arthur's  household.  I  will  go  to  Arthur's  court, 
and  ill  betide  me  if  I  return  not  thence  with  a  warrior  who  can 
guard  the  fountain  as  well  as,  or  even  better  than  he  who  de- 
fended it  formerly."  "  That  will  be  hard  to  perform,"  said  the 
countess.  "Go,  however,  and  make  proof  of  that  which  thou 
hast  promised." 

Luned  set  out  under  the  pretence  of  going  to  Arthur's  court  ] 


0 WAIN'S  ADVENTURE.  229 

but  she  went  back  to  the  mansion  where  she  had  left  Owain,  and 
she  tarried  there  as  long  as  it  might  have  taken  her  to  travel  to 
the  court  of  King  Arthur  and  back.  And  at  the  end  of  that 
time  she  apparelled  herself,  and  went  to  visit  the  countess.  And 
the  countess  was  much  rejoiced  when  she  saw  her,  and  inquired 
what  news  she  brought  from  the  court,  '*  I  bring  thee  the  best 
of  news,"  said  Luned,  ''for  I  have  compassed  the  object  of  my 
mission.  When  wilt  thou  that  I  should  present  to  thee  the  chief- 
tain who  has  come  with  me  hither?"  "  Bring  him  here  to  visit 
me  to-morrow,"  said  the  countess,  "and  I  will  cause  the  town 
to  be  assembled  by  that  time. ' ' 

And  Luned  returned  home.  And  the  next  day,  at  noon, 
Owain  arrayed  himself  in  a  coat  and  a  surcoat,  and  a  mantle  of 
yellow  satin,  upon  which  was  a  broad  band  of  gold  lace ;  and 
on  his  feet  were  high  shoes  of  variegated  leather,  which  were 
fastened  by  golden  clasps,  in  the  form  of  lions.  And  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  chamber  of  the  countess. 

Right  glad  was  the  countess  of  their  coming.  And  she  gazed 
steadfastly  upon  Owain,  and  said,  ''Luned,  this  knight  has  not 
the  look  of  a  traveller."  "What  harm  is  there  in  that,  lady?" 
said  Luned.  ''I  am  certain,"  said  the  countess,  "  that  no  other 
man  than  this  chased  the  soul  from  the  body  of  my  lord. "  "So 
much  the  better  for  thee,  lady,"  said  Luned,  "for  had  he  not 
been  stronger  than  thy  lord,  he  could  not  have  deprived  him  of 
life.  There  is  no  remedy  for  that  which  is  past,  be  it  as  it  may. ' ' 
^'  Go  back  to  thine  abode,"  said  the  countess,  "and  I  will  take 
counsel." 

The  next  day  the  countess  caused  all  her  subjects  to  assemble, 
and  showed  them  that  her  earldom  was  left  defenceless,  and  that 
it  could  not  be  protected  but  with  horse  and  arms,  and  military 
skill.  "Therefore,"  said  she,  "this  is  what  I  offer  for  your 
choice  :  either  let  one  of  you  take  me,  or  give  your  consent  for 
me  to  take  a  husband  from  elsewhere,  to  defend  my  dominions. ' ' 

So  they  came  to  the  determination  that  it  was  better  that  she 
should  have  permission  to  marry  some  one  from  elsewhere ;  and 
thereupon  she  sent  for  the  bishops  and  archbishops,  to  celebrate 
her  nuptials  with  Owain.  And  the  men  of  the  earldom  did 
Owain  homage. 

And  Owain  defended  the  fountain  with  lance  and  sword.     And 


230 


THE  MABINOGEON. 


this  is  the  manner  in  which  he  defended  it.  Whensoever  a 
knight  came  there,  he  overthrew  him,  and  sold  him  for  his  full 
worth.  And  what  he  thus  gained  he  divided  among  his  barons 
and  his  knights,  and  no  man  in  the  whole  world  could  be  more 
beloved  than  he  was  by  his  subjects.  And  it  was  thus  for  the 
space  of  three  years. 

*  *  Hast  thou  heard  of  Owain  the  Peerless  ? 
For  three  years  he  ruled 
His  people  like  a  god  from  heaven." — ^Triad. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


The  Lady  of  the  Fountain  (Continued). 


Ga'wain's  Adventure — Adventure  of  the  Lion — 
Lu'ned. 

It  befell  that,  as  Gawain  went  forth  one  day  with  King 
Arthur,  he  perceived  him  to  be  very  sad  and  sorrowful.  And 
Gawain  was  much  grieved  to  see  Arthur  in  this  state,  and  he 
questioned  him,  saying,  "  O  my  lord,  what  has  befallen  thee?" 
*'In  sooth,  Gawain,"  said  Arthur,  '^lam  grieved  concerning 
Owain,  whom  I  have  lost  these  three  years  ;  and  I  shall  certainly 
die  if  the  fourth  year  pass  without  my  seeing  him.  Now  I  am 
sure  that  it  is  through  the  tale  which  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno, 
related,  that  I  have  lost  Owain."  "  There  is  no  need  for  thee," 
said  Gawain,  "  to  summon  to  arms  thy  whole  dominions  on  this 
account,  for  thou  thyself,  and  the  men  of  thy  household,  will  be 
able  to  avenge  Owain  if  he  be  slain,  or  to  set  him  free  if  he  be  in 
prison;  and,  if  alive,  to  bring  him  back  with  thee."  Audit 
was  settled  according  to  what  Gawain  had  said. 

Then  Arthur  and  the  men  of  his  household  prepared  to  go 
and  seek  Owain.  And  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno,  acted  as  their 
guide.  And  Arthur  came  to  the  castle  where  Kynon  had  been 
before.  And  when  he  came  there,  the  youths  were  shooting  in 
the  same  place,  and  the  yellow  man  was  standing  hard  by.  When 
the  yellow  man  saw  Arthur,  he  greeted  him  and  invited  him  to 
the  castle.    And  Arthur  accepted  his  invitation,  and  they  entered 

(231) 


232  THE  MABINOGEON. 

the  castle  together.  And  great  as  was  the  number  of  his  retinue, 
their  presence  was  scarcely  observed  in  the  castle,  so  vast  was  its 
extent.  And  the  maidens  rose  up  to  wait  on  them.  And  the 
service  of  the  maidens  appeared  to  them  all  to  excel  any  attend- 
ance they  had  ever  met  with  ;  and  even  the  pages,  who  had 
charge  of  the  horses,  were  no  worse  served  that  night  than  Arthur 
himself  would  have  been  in  his  own  palace. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  set  out  thence,  with  Kynon  for  his 
guide,  and  came  to  the  place  where  the  black  man  was.  And 
the  stature  of  the  black  man  was  more  surprising  to  Arthur  than 
it  had  been  represented  to  him.  And  they  came  to  the  top  of 
the  wooded  steep,  and  traversed  the  valley,  till  they  reached  the 
green  tree,  where  they  saw  the  fountain  and  the  bowl  and  the 
slab.  And  upon  that  Kay  came  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to  him. 
**My  lord,"  said  he,  *'  I  know  the  meaning  of  all  this,  and  my 
request  is  that  thou  wilt  permit  me  to  throw  the  water  on  the 
slab,  and  to  receive  the  first  adventure  that  may  befall."  And 
Arthur  gave  him  leave. 

Then  Kay  threw  a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab,  and  im- 
mediately there  came  the  thunder,  and  after  the  thunder  the 
shower.  And  such  a  thunder-storm  they  had  never  known 
before.  After  the  shower  had  ceased,  the  sky  became  clear,  and 
on  looking  at  the  tree,  they  beheld  it  completely  leafless.  Then 
the  birds  descended  upon  the  tree.  And  the  song  of  the  birds 
was  far  sweeter  than  any  strain  they  had  ever  heard  before. 
Then  they  beheld  a  knight,  on  a  coal-black  horse,  clothed  in 
black  satin,  coming  rapidly  towards  them.  And  Kay  met  him 
and  encountered  him,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Kay  was  ovei- 
thrown.  And  the  knight  withdrew.  And  Arthur  and  his  host 
encamped  for  the  night. 

A.nd  when  they  arose  in  the  morning,  they  perceived  the  signal 
of  combat  upon  the  lance  of  the  knight.  Then,  one  by  one, 
all  the  household  of  Arthur  went  forth  to  combat  the  knight, 
until  there  was  not  one  that  was  not  overthrown  by  him,  except 
Arthur  and  Gawain.  And  Arthur  armed  himself  to  encounter 
the  knight.  '*0  my  lord,"  said  Gawain,  '^permit  me  to  fight 
with  him  first."  And  Arthur  permitted  him.  And  he  went 
forth  to  meet  the  knight,  having  over  himself  and  his  horse  a 
satin  robe  of  honor,  and  in  this  dress  he  was  not  known  by  any 


OA  WAIN'S  AD  VENTURE.  233 

of  the  host.  And  they  charged  each  other,  and  fought  all  that 
day  until  the  evening.  And  neither  of  them  was  able  to  unhorse 
the  other.  And  so  it  was  the  next  day  ;  they  broke  their  lances 
in  the  shock,  but  neither  of  them  could  obtain  the  mastery. 

And  the  third  day  they  fought  with  exceeding  strong  lances. 
And  they  were  incensed  with  rage,  and  fought  furiously, 
even  until  noon.  And  they  gave  each  other  such  a  shock  that 
the  girths  of  their  horses  were  broken,  so  that  they  fell  over  their 
horses'  cruppers  'to  the  ground.  And  they  rose  up  speedily  and 
drew  their  swords,  and  resumed  the  combat.  And  all  they  that  wit- 
nessed their  encounter  felt  assured  that  they  had  never  before  seen 
two  men  so  valiant  or  so  powerful.  And  had  it  been  midnight, 
it  would  have  been  light,  from  the  fire  that  flashed  from  their 
weapons.  And  the  knight  gave  Gawain  a  blow  that  turned  his 
helmet  from  off  his  face,  so  that  the  knight  saw  that  it  was 
Gawain.  Then  Owain  said,  "  My  lord  Gawain,  I  did  not  know 
thee  for  my  cousin,  owing  to  the  robe  of  honor  that  enveloped 
thee;  take  my  sword  and  my  arms."  Said  Gawain,  ''Thou, 
Owain,  art  the  victor ;  take  thou  my  sword."  And  with  that 
Arthur  saw  that  they  were  conversing,  and  advanced  toward 
them.  "  My  lord  Arthur,"  said  Gawain,  "  here  is  Owain,  who 
has  vanquished  me,  and  will  not  take  my  arms."  "  My  lord," 
said  Owain,  ''it  is  he  that  has  vanquished  me,  and  he  will  not 
take  my  sword."  "Give  me  your  swords,"  said  Arthur,  "and 
then  neither  of  you  has  vanquished  the  other."  Then  Owain 
put  his  arms  around  Arthur's  neck,  and  they  embraced.  And 
all  the  host  hurried  forward  to  see  Owain,  and  to  embrace  him. 
And  there  was  nigh  being  a  loss  of  life,  so  great  was  the  press. 

And  they  retired  that  night,  and  the  next  day  Arthur  prepared 
to  depart.  "  My  lord,"  said  Owain,  "this  is  not  well  of  thee. 
For  I  have  been  absent  from  thee  these  three  years,  and  during 
all  that  time,  up  to  this  very  day,  I  have  been  preparing  a  ban- 
quet for  thee,  knowing  that  thou  wouldst  come  to  seek  me. 
Tarry  with  me,  therefore,  until  thou  and  thy  attendants  have 
recovered  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  have  been  anointed." 

And  they  all  proceeded  to  the  castle  of  the  Countess  of  the 
Fountain,  and  the  banquet  which  had  been  three  years  preparing 
was  consumed  in  three  months.  Never  had  they  a  more  deli- 
cious or  agreeable  banquet.     And  Arthur  prepared  to  depart. 


234  THE  MABINOGEON. 

Then  he  sent  an  embassy  to  the  countess  to  beseech  her  to  per- 
mit Owain  to  go  with  him,  for  the  space  of  three  months,  that 
he  might  show  him  to  the  nobles  and  the  fair  dames  of  the 
island  of  Britain.  And  the  countess  gave  her  consent,  although 
it  was  very  painful  to  her.  So  Owain  came  with  Arthur  to  the 
island  of  Britain.  And  when  he  was  once  more  amongst  his 
kindred  and  friends,  he  remained  three  years,  instead  of  three 
months,  with  them. 

The  Adventure  of  the  Lion. 

And  as  Owain  sat  one  day  at  meat,  in  the  city  of  Caerleon 
upon  Usk,  behold  a  damsel  entered  the  hall,  upon  a  bay  horse, 
with  a  curling  mane,  and  covered  with  foam  ;  and  the  bridle, 
and  as  much  as  were  seen  of  the  saddle,  were  of  gold.  And 
the  damsel  was  arrayed  in  a  dress  of  yellow  satin.  And  she 
came  up  to  Owain,  and  took  the  ring  from  off  his  hand.  *'Thus," 
said  she,  ''  shall  be  treated  the  deceiver,  the  traitor,  the  faithless, 
the  disgraced,  and  the  beardless."  And  she  turned  her  horse's 
head  and  departed.^ 

*'  And  so  befell  that  after  the  thridde  cours, 
While  that  this  king  sat  thus  in  his  nobley, 
Herking  his  minstralles  thir  thinges  play, 
Beforne  him  at  his  bord  deliciously, 
In  at  the  halle  door  all  sodenly 
Ther  came  a  knight  upon  a  stede  of  bras, 
And  in  his  bond  a  brod  mirrour  of  glas  ; 
Upon  his  thombe  he  had  of  gold  a  ring, 
And  by  his  side  a  naked  sword  hanging  ; 
And  up  he  rideth  to  the  highe  bord. 
In  all  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word, 
For  mervaille  of  this  knight ;  him  to  behold, 
Full  besily  they  waiten,  young  and  old." — Chaucer. 

Then  his  adventure  came  to  Owain' s  remembrance,  and  he  was 
sorrowful.  And  having  finished  eating,  he  went  to  his  own 
abode,  and  made  preparations  that  night.  And  the  next  day  he 
arose,  but  did  not  go  to  the  court,  nor  did  he  return  to  the 
Countess  of  the  Fountain,  but  wandered  to  the  distant  parts  of 
the  earth  and  to  uncultivated  mountains.     And   he  remained 

'  The  custom  of  riding  into  a  hall  while  the  lord  and  his  guests  sat  at  meat, 
might  be  illustrated  by  numerous  passages  of  ancient  romance  and  history. 


The  Finding  of  Owain. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  LION.  235 

there  until  all  his  apparel  was  worn  out,  and  his  body  was  wasted 
away,  and  his  hair  was  grown  long.  And  he  went  about  with  the 
wild  beasts,  and  fed  with  them,  until  they  became  familiar  with 
him.  But  at  length  he  became  so  weak  that  he  could  no  longer 
bear  them  company.  Then  he  descended  from  the  mountains  to 
the  valley,  and  came  to  a  park,  that  was  the  fairest  in  the  world, 
and  belonged  to  a  charitable  lady. 

One  day  the  lady  and  her  attendants  went  forth  to  walk  by  a 
lake  that  was  in  the  middle  of  the  park.  And  they  saw  the  form 
of  a  man,  lying  as  if  dead.  And  they  were  terrified.  Never- 
theless they  went  near  him,  and  touched  him,  and  they  saw  that 
there  was  life  in  him.  And  the  lady  returned  to  the  castle,  and 
took  a  flask  full  of  precious  ointment  and  gave  it  to  one  of  her 
maidens.  *'Go  with  this,"  said  she,  ''and  take  with  thee 
yonder  horse,  and  clothing,  and  place  them  near  the  man  we  saw 
just  now  ;  and  anoint  him  with  this  balsam  near  his  heart ;  and 
if  there  is  life  in  him,  he  will  revive,  through  the  efficiency  of 
this  balsam.     Then  watch  what  he  will  do." 

And  the  maiden  departed  from  her,  and  went  and  poured  of  the 
balsam  upon  Owain,  and  left  the  horse  and  the  garments  hard 
by,  and  went  a  little  way  off  and  hid  herself  to  watch  him.  In 
a  short  time  she  saw  him  begin  to  move  ;  and  he  rose  up,  and 
looked  at  his  person,  and  became  ashamed  of  the  unseemliness 
of  his  appearance.  Then  he  perceived  the  horse  and  the  gar- 
ments that  were  near  him.  And  he  clothed  himself,  and  with 
difficulty  mounted  the  horse.  Then  the  damsel  discovered  her- 
self to  him,  and  saluted  him.  And  he  and  the  maiden  pro- 
ceeded to  the  castle,  and  the  maiden  conducted  him  to  a  pleasant 
chamber,  and  kindled  a  fire,  and  left  him. 

And  he  stayed  at  the  castle  three  months,  till  he  was  restored 
to  his  former  guise,  and  became  even  more  comely  than  he  had 
ever  been  before.  And  Owain  rendered  signal  service  to  the 
lady,  in  a  controversy  with  a  powerful  neighbor,  so  that  he 
made  ample  requital  to  her  for  her  hospitality ;  and  he  took  his 
departure. 

And  as  he  journeyed  he  heard  a  loud  yelling  in  a  wood.  And 
it  was  repeated  a  second  and  a  third  time.  And  Owain  went 
towards  the  spot,  and  beheld  a  huge  craggy  mound,  in  the 
middle  of  the  wood,  on  the  side  of  which  was  a  gray  rock.     And 


236  THE  MABINOGEON. 

there  was  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  a  serpent  was  within  the  cleft. 
And  near  the  rock  stood  a  black  lion,  and  every  time  the  lion 
sought  to  go  thence  the  serpent  darted  towards  him  to  attack 
him.  And  Owain  unsheathed  his  sword,  and  drew  near  to  the 
rock ;  and  as  the  serpent  sprung  out  he  struck  him  with  his 
sword  and  cut  him  in  two.  And  he  dried  his  sword,  and  went 
on  his  way  as  before.  But  behold  the  lion  followed  him,  and 
played  about  him,  as  though  it  had  been  a  greyhound  that  he 
had  reared. 

They  proceeded  thus  throughout  the  day,  until  the  evening. 
And  when  it  was  time  for  Owain  to  take  his  rest,  he  dismounted, 
and  turned  his  horse  loose  in  a  flat  and  wooded  meadow.  And 
he  struck  fire,  and  when  the  fire  was  kindled,  the  lion  brought 
him  fuel  enough  to  last  for  three  nights.  And  the  lion  disap- 
peared. And  presently  the  lion  returned,  bearing  a  fine  large 
roebuck.  And  he  threw  it  down  before  Owain,  who  went 
towards  the  fire  with  it. 

And  Owain  took  the  roebuck,  and  skinned  it,  and  placed 
coUops  of  its  flesh  upon  skewers  round  the  fire.  The  rest  of  the 
buck  he  gave  to  the  lion  to  devour. 

Lu'ned. 
Presently  Owain  heard  a  deep  groan  near  him,  and  a  second, 
and  a  third.  And  the  place  whence  the  groans  proceeded  was  a 
cave  in  the  rock  ;  and  Owain  went  near,  and  called  out  to  know 
who  it  was  that  groaned  so  piteously.  And  a  voice  answered,  *'  I 
am  Luned,  the  handmaiden  of  the  Countess  of  the  Fountain." 
' *  And  what  dost  thou  here  ?' '  said  he.  ' '  I  am  imprisoned, ' '  said 
she,  ''on  account  of  the  knight  who  came  from  Arthur's  court 
and  married  the  countess.  And  he  staid  a  short  time  with  her, 
but  he  afterwards  departed  for  the  court  of  Arthur,  and  has  not 
returned  since.  And  two  of  the  countess's  pages  traduced  him, 
and  called  him  a  deceiver.  And  because  I  said  I  would  vouch  for 
it  he  would  come  before  long  and  maintain  his  cause  against  both 
of  them,  they  imprisoned  me  in  this  cave,  and  said  that  I  should 
be  put  to  death  unless  he  came  to  deliver  me  by  a  certain  day ; 
and  that  is  no  further  off"  than  to-morrow,  and  I  have  no  one  to 
send  to  seek  him  for  me.  His  name  is  Owain,  the  son  of 
Urien."      *'And  art  thou  certain  that  if  that  knight  knew  all 


LUNED.  237 

this,  he  would  come  to  thy  rescue?"  **Iam  most  certain  of 
it,"  said  she. 

When  the  coUops  were  cooked,  Owain  divided  them  into  two 
parts,  between  himself  and  the  maiden,  and  then  Owain  laid 
himself  down  to  sleep  ;  and  never  did  sentinel  keep  stricter 
watch  over  his  lord  than  the  lion  that  night  over  Owain. 

And  the  next  day  there  came  the  two  pages  with  a  great  troop 
of  attendants  to  take  Luned  from  her  cell  and  put  her  to  death. 
And  Owain  asked  them  what  charge  they  had  against  her.  And 
they  told  him  of  the  compact  that  was  between  them,  as  the 
maiden  had  done  the  night  before.  ^'  And,"  said  they,  "Owain 
has  failed  her,  therefore  we  are  taking  her  to  be  burnt." 
"Truly,"  said  Owain,"  "  he  is  a  good  knight,  and  if  he  knew 
that  the  maiden  was  in  such  peril,  I  marvel  that  he  came  not  to 
her  rescue.  But  if  you  will  accept  me  in  his  stead,  I  will  do 
battle  with  you."      "We  will,"  said  the  youths. 

And  they  attacked  Owain,  and  he  was  hard  beset  by  them. 
And  with  that,  the  lion  came  to  Owain' s  assistance,  and  they 
two  got  the  better  of  the  young  men.  And  they  said  to  him, 
"  Chieftain,  it  was  not  agreed  that  we  should  fight  save  with  thy- 
self alone,"  and  it  is  harder  for  us  to  contend  with  yonder  animal 
than  with  thee."  And  Owain  put  the  lion  in  the  place  where 
Luned  had  been  imprisoned,  and  blocked  up  the  door  with  stones. 
And  he  went  to  fight  with  the  young  men  as  before.  But  Owain 
had  not  his  usual  strength,  and  the  two  youths  pressed  hard  upon 
him.  And  the  lion  roared  incessantly  at  seeing  Owain  in  trouble. 
And  he  burst  through  the  wall,  until  he  found  a  way  out,  and 
rushed  upon  the  young  men  and  instantly  slew  them.  So  Luned 
was  saved  from  being  burned. 

Then  Owain  returned  with  Luned  to  the  castle  of  the  Lady  of 
the  Fountain.  And  when  he  went  thence,  he  took  the  countess 
with  him  to  Arthur's  court,  and  she  was  his  wife  as  long  as  she 

lived. 

'*  The  soul  of  Owain  ap  Urien, 
May  its  Lord  consider  its  exigencies  ! 
Reged's  chief  the  green  turf  covers." — Taliesin. 


BBESS 

k^p5H-Su!3 

-*-J^ 

-xag.,a..^>S^ 

^=^ 

^ 

'*|[____^ 

9 

m 

S^rf 

1 

1 

m 

CHAPTER  V. 

Ge'raint,  the  Son  of  Erbin— The  Knight  of  the 
Sparrow-Hawk. 

Ge'raint. 

Arthur  was  accustomed  to  hold  his  court  at  Caerleon  upon 
Usk.  And  there  he  held  it  seven  Easters  and  five  Christmases. 
And  once  upon  a  time  he  held  his  court  there  at  Whitsuntide. 
For  Caerleon  was  the  place  most  easy  of  access  in  his  dominions, 
both  by  sea  and  by  land.  And  there  were  assembled  nine 
crowned  kings,  who  were  his  tributaries,  and  likewise  earls  and 
barons.  For  they  were  his  invited  guests  at  all  the  high  festivals, 
unless  they  were  prevented  by  any  great  hinderance.  And  when 
he  was  at  Caerleon  holding  his  court,  thirteen  churches  were  set 
apart  for  mass.  And  thus  they  were  appointed  :  one  church  for 
Arthur  and  his  kings,  and  his  guests ;  and  the  second  for  Guine- 
vere and  her  ladies ;  and  the  third  for  the  steward  of  the  house- 
hold and  the  suitors ;  and  the  fourth  for  the  Franks  and  the 
other  officers ;  and  the  other  nine  churches  were  for  the  nine 
masters  of  the  household,  and  chiefly  for  Gawain,  for  he,  from 
the  eminence  of  his  warlike  fame,  and  from  the  nobleness  of  his 
birth,  was  the  most  exalted  of  the  nine.  And  there  was  no  other 
arrangement  respecting  the  churches  than  that  which  we  have 
here  mentioned. 

And  on  Whit-Tuesday,  as  the  king  sat  at  the  banquet,  lo,  there 
entered  a  tall,  fair-headed  youth,  clad  in  a  coat  and  surcoat  of 
(238) 


GERAINT.  239 

satin,  and  a  golden-hilted  sword  about  his  neck,  and  low  shoes 
of  leather  upon  his  feet.  And  he  came  and  stood  before  Arthur. 
''Hail  to  thee,  lord,"  said  he.  ''Heaven  prosper  thee,"  he 
answered,  "and  be  thou  welcome."  "Dost  thou  bring  any 
new  tidings?"  "I  do,  lord,"  he  said.  "  I  am  one  of  thy 
foresters,  lord,  in  the  forest  of  Dean.  In  the  forest  I  saw  a  stag, 
the  like  of  which  beheld  I  never  yet."  "What  is  there  about 
him,"  asked  Arthur,  "that  thou  never  yet  didst  see  his  like?" 
"  He  is  of  pure  white,  lord,  and  he  does  not  herd  with  any  other 
animal,  through  stateliness  and  pride,  so  royal  is  his  bearing. 
And  I  come  to  seek  thy  counsel,  lord,  and  to  know  thy  will 
concerning  him."  "  It  seems  best  to  me,"  said  Arthur,  "  to 
go  and  hunt  him  to-morrow  at  break  of  day,  and  to  cause  general 
notice  thereof  to  be  given  to-night,  in  all  quarters  of  the  court." 

**  For  Arthur  on  the  Whitsuntide  before 
Held  court  at  old  Caerleon  upon  Usk. 
There  on  a  day,  he  sitting  high  in  hall, 
Before  him  came  a  forester  of  Dean, 
Wet  from  the  woods,  with  notice  of  a  hart 
Taller  than  all  his  fellows,  milky-white, 
First  seen  that  day  :  these  things  he  told  the  king. 
Then  the  good  king  gave  order  to  let  blow 
His  horns  for  hunting  on  the  morrow  morn." — Enid. 

And  all  received  notice  ;  and  thus  it  was  arranged. 

Then  Guinevere  said  to  Arthur,  "  Wilt  thou  permit  me,  lord, 
to  go  to-morrow  to  see  and  hear  the  hunt  of  the  stag  of  which 
the  young  man  spoke?"  "  I  will  gladly,"  said  Arthur.  And 
Gawain  said  to  Arthur,  "  Lord,  if  it  seems  well  to  thee,  permit 
that  into  whose  hunt  soever  the  stag  shall  come,  that  one,  be  he 
a  knight  or  one  on  foot,  may  cut  off  his  head,  and  give  it  to 
whom  he  pleases,  whether  to  his  own  lady-love,  or  to  the  lady 
of  his  friend."  "  I  grant  it  gladly,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  let  the 
steward  of  the  household  be  chastised  if  all  things  are  not  ready 
to-morrow  for  the  chase. ' ' 

And  they  passed  the  night  with  songs,  and  diversions,  and 
discourse,  and  ample  entertainment.  And  when  it  was  time  for 
them  all  to  go  to  sleep,  they  went.  And  when  the  next  day 
came,  they  arose.  And  Arthur  called  the  attendants  who  guarded 
his  couch.     And  these  men  came  to  Arthur  and  saluted  him,  and 


240  THE  MABINOQEON. 

arrayed  him  in  his  garments.  And  Arthur  wondered  that  Guin- 
evere did  not  awake,  and  the  attendants  wished  to  awaken  her. 
'*  Disturb  her  not,"  said  Arthur,  "  for  she  had  rather  sleep,  than 
go  to  see  the  hunting." 

Then  Arthur  went  forth,  and  he  heard  two  horns  sounding, 
one  from  near  the  lodging  of  the  chief  huntsman,  and  the  other 
from  near  that  of  the  chief  page.  And  the  whole  assembly  of 
the  multitudes  came  to  Arthur,  and  they  took  the  road  to  the 
forest. 

And  after  Arthur  had  gone  forth  from  the  palace,  Guinevere 
awoke,  and  called  to  her  maidens,  and  apparelled  herself. 
*'  Maidens,"  said  she,  "  I  had  leave  last  night  to  go  and  see  the 
hunt.  Go  one  of  you  to  the  stable,  and  order  hither  a  horse 
such  as  a  woman  may  ride. ' '  And  one  of  them  went,  and  she 
found  but  two  horses  in  the  stable;  and  Guinevere  and  one  of 
her  maidens  mounted  them,  and  went  through  the  Usk,  and  fol- 
lowed the  track  of  the  men  and  the  horses.  And  as  they  rode 
thus  they  heard  a  loud  and  rushing  sound  ;  and  they  looked  behind 
them,  and  beheld  a  knight  upon  a  hunter  foal  of  mighty  size. 
And  the  rider  was  a  fair-haired  youth,  bare-legged,  and  of 
princely  mien  ;  and  a  golden  hilted  sword  was  at  his  side,  and  a 
robe  and  a  surcoat  of  satin  were  upon  him,  and  two  low  shoes 
of  leather  upon  his  feet ;  and  around  him  was  a  scarf  of  blue 
purple,  at  each  corner  of  which  was  a  golden  apple. 

*'  For  Prince  Geraint, 
Late  also,  wearing  neither  hunting-dress 
Nor  weapon,  save  a  golden-hilted  brand, 
Came  quickly  flashing  through  the  shallow  ford." — Enid. 
• 
And  his  horse  stepped  stately,  and  swift,  and  proud ;  and  he 
overtook  Guinevere,  and  saluted  her.      "Heaven  prosper  thee, 
Geraint,"  said  she  ;   '^and  why  didst  thou  not  go  with  thy  lord 
to  hunt?"      ''  Because  I  knew  not  when  he  went,"  said  he.     "I 
marvel  too,"  said  she,  ''how  he  could  go  unknown  to  me.     But 
thou,  O  young  man,  art  the  most  agreeable  companion  I  could 
have  in  the  whole  kingdom  ;  and  it   may  be  I  shall  be  more 
amused  with  the  hunting  than  they ;  for  we  shall  hear  the  horns 
when  they  sound,  and  we  shall  hear  the  dogs  when  they  let  loose 
and  begin  to  cry." 


The  Dwarf's  Assault. 


QERATNT.  24 1 

So  they  went  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  there  they  stood. 
**  From  this  place,"  said  she,  ''we  shall  hear  when  the  dogs  are 
let  loose. ' '  And  thereupon  they  heard  a  loud  noise  ;  and  they 
looked  toward  the  spot  whence  it  came,  and  they  beheld  a  dwarf 
riding  upon  a  horse,  stately  and  foaming  and  prancing  and  strong 
aud  spirited.  And  in  the  hand  of  the  dwarf  was  a  whip.  And 
near  the  dwarf  they  saw  a  lady  upon  a  beautiful  white  horse,  of 
steady  and  stately  pace ;  and  she  was  clothed  in  a  garment  of 
gold  brocade.  And  near  her  was  a  knight  upon  a  war-horse  of 
large  size,  with  heavy  and  bright  armor  both  upon  himself  and 
upon  his  horse.  And  truly  they  never  before  saw  a  knight,  or  a 
horse,  or  armor,  of  such  remarkable  size. 

*'Geraint,"  said  Guinevere,  ''knowest  thou  the  name  of  that 
tall  knight  yonder?"  ''I  know  him  not,"  said  he,  "and  the 
strange  armor  that  he  wears  prevents  my  either  seeing  his  face 
or  his  features. "  "  Go,  maiden, ' '  said  Guinevere,  **  and  ask  the 
dwarf  who  that  knight  is. ' '  Then  the  maiden  went  up  to  the 
dwarf;  and  she  inquired  of  the  dwarf  who  the  knight  was.  **  I 
will  not  tell  thee,"  he  answered.  "  Since  thou  art  so  churlish," 
said  she,  "  I  will  ask  him,  himself."  ''  Thou  shalt  not  ask  him, 
by  my  faith,"  said  he.  "  Wherefore  not ?"  said  she.  ''Because 
thou  art  not  of  honor  sufficient  to  befit  thee  to  speak  to  my 
lord."  Then  the  maiden  turned  her  horse's  head  towards  the 
knight,  upon  which  the  dwarf  struck  her  with  the  whip  that  was 
in  his  hand  across  the  face  and  the  eyes,  so  that  the  blood  flowed 
forth.  And  the  maiden  returned  to  Guinevere,  complaining  of 
the  hurt  she  had  received.  "Very  rudely  has  the  dwarf  treated 
thee,"  said  Geraint,  and  he  put  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his 
sword.  But  he  took  counsel  with  himself,  and  considered  that 
it  would  be  no  vengeance  for  him  to  slay  the  dwarf,  and  to  be 
attacked  unarmed  by  the  armed  knight.      So  he  refrained. 

"  But  I  will  follow  him,"  said  he  ; 

'*  I  will  avenge  this  insult,  noble  que  n, 
Done  in  your  maiden's  person  to  yourself: 
And  I  will  track  this  vermin  to  their  earths  : 
For  tho'  I  ride  unarm' d,  I  do  not  doubt 
To  find,  at  some  place  I  shall  come  at,  arms 
On  loan,  or  el>e  for  pledge  ;  and,  being  found, 
Then  will  I  fight  him,  and  will  break  his  pride, 
10 


242  THE  MABINOOEON. 

And  on  the  third  day,  will  again  be  here, 

So  that  I  be  not  fall'n  in  fight.     Farewell."  — Enid. 

*'  Go,"  said  she,  '*  and  do  not  attack  him  until  thou  hast  good 
arms ;  and  I  shall  be  very  anxious  concerning  thee  until  I  hear 
tidings  of  thee."  **If  I  am  alive,"  said  he,  ''thou  shalt  hear 
tidings  of  me  by  to-morrow  afternoon;"  and  with  that  he  de- 
parted. 

And  the  road  they  took  was  below  the  palace  of  Caerleon,  and 
across  the  ford  of  the  Usk ;  and  they  went  along  a  fair  and  even 
and  lofty  ridge  of  ground,  until  they  came  to  a  town,  and  at  the 
extremity  of  the  town  they  saw  a  fortress  and  a  castle.  And  as 
the  knight  passed  through  the  town,  all  the  people  arose  and 
saluted  him,  and  bade  him  welcome.  And  when  Geraint  came 
into  the  town,  he  looked  at  every  house  to  see  if  he  knew  any 
of  those  whom  he  saw.  But  he  knew  none,  and  none  knew 
him,  to  do  him  the  kindness  to  let  him  have  arms,  either  as  a 
loan  or  for  a  pledge.  And  every  house  he  saw  was  full  of  men, 
and  arms,  and  horses.  And  they  were  polishing  shields,  and 
burnishing  swords,  and  washing  armor,  and  shoeing  horses.  And 
the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the  dwarf  rode  up  to  the  castle,  that 
was  in  the  town,  and  every  one  was  glad  in  the  castle.  And 
from  the  battlements  and  the  gates  they  risked  their  necks, 
through  their  eagerness  to  greet  them,  and  to  show  their  joy. 

Geraint  stood  there,  to  see  whether  the  knight  would  remain 
in  the  castle ;  and  when  he  was  certain  that  he  would  do  so,  he 
looked  around  him.  And  at  a  little  distance  from  the  town  he 
saw  an  old  palace  in  ruins,  wherein  was  a  hall  that  was  falling 

to  decay. 

"  And  high  above  a  piece  of  turret-stair, 
Worn  by  the  feet  that  now  were  silent,  wound 
Bare  to  the  sun." — Enid. 

And  as  he  knew  not  any  one  in  the  town,  he  went  towards  the 
old  palace.  And  when  he  came  near  to  the  palace,  he  saw  a 
hoary -headed  man,  standing  by  it,  in  tattered  garments.  And 
Geraint  gazed  steadfastly  upon  him.  Then  the  hoary -headed 
man  said  to  him,  "Young  man,  wherefore  art  thou  thoughtful?" 
*'I  am  thoughtful,"  said  he,  ''because  I  know  not  where  to 
pass  the  night." 


OERAINT.  243 

«*  Enter  therefore  and  partake 
The  slender  entertainment  of  a  house 
Once  rich,  now  poor,  but  ever  open-door' d." — Enid. 

So  Geraint  went  forward.  And  the  hoary -headed  man  led  the 
way  into  the  hall.  And  in  the  hall  he  dismounted,  and  he  left 
there  his  horse.  Then  he  went  on  up  to  the  chamber  with  the 
hoary-headed  man.  And  in  the  chamber  he  beheld  an  old 
woman,  sitting  on  a  cushion,  with  old,  worn-out  garments  upon 
her  ;  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  must  have  been  comely  when 
in  the  bloom  of  youth.  And  beside  her  was  a  maiden,  upon 
whom  were  a  vest  and  a  veil  that  were  old,  and  beginning  to 
be  worn  out.  And  truly  he  never  saw  a  maiden  more  full  of 
comeliness  and  grace  and  beauty  than  she.  And  the  hoary- 
headed  man  said  to  the  maiden,  "  There  is  no  attendant  for  the 
horse  of  this  youth  but  thyself. "  "I  will  render  the  best  ser- 
vice lam  able,"  said  she,  "both  to  him  and  to  his  horse." 
And  the  maiden  disarrayed  the  youth,  and  then  she  furnished 
his  horse  with  straw  and  with  corn ;  and  then  she  returned  to 
the  chamber. 

"And  while  he  waited  in  the  castle-court, 
The  voice  of  Enid,  Yniol's  daughter,  rang 
Clear  thro'  the  open  casement  of  the  hall, 
Singing  ;  and  as  the  sweet  voice  of  a  bird, 
Heard  by  the  lander  in  a  lonely  isle, 
Moves  him  to  think  what  kind  of  bird  it  is. 

**  It  chanced  the  song  that  Enid  sang  was  one 
Of  Fortune  and  her  wheel,  and  Enid  sang : 

*'  *  Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  and  lower  the  proud  ; 
Turn  thy  wild  wheel  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  cloud  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love  nor  hate. 

"  *  Smile  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  many  lands  ; 
Frown  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  our  own  hands ; 
For  man  is  man,  and  master  of  his  fate. 

'*  *  Turn,  turn  thy  wheel  above  the  staring  crowd  j 
Thy  wheel  and  thou  are  shadows  in  the  cloud  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love  nor  hate.' 

"  '  There  is  the  nightingale.' 
So  fared  it  with  Geraint,  who  thought  and  said, 
*  Here,  by  God's  grace,  is  the  one  voice  for  me,'  " — Enid. 


244  THE  MABINOGEOK 

And  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  the  maiden,  **Go  to  the 
town,  and  bring  hither  the  best  that  thou  canst  find,  both  of  food 
and  of  liquor."  **I  will  gladly,  lord,"  said  she.  And  to  the 
town  went  the  maiden.  And  they  conversed  together  while  the 
maiden  was  at  the  town.  And,  behold,  the  maiden  came  back, 
and  a  youth  with  her,  bearing  on  his  back  a  costrel  full  of  good 
purchased  mead,  and  a  quarter  of  a  young  bullock.  And  in 
the  hands  of  the  maiden  was  a  quantity  of  white  bread,  and  she 
had  some  manchet  bread  in  her  veil,  and  she  came  into  the 
chamber.  *'I  could  not  obtain  better  than  this,"  said  she, 
**  nor  with  better  should  I  have  been  trusted."  "It  is  good 
enough,"  said  Geraint.  And  they  caused  the  meat  to  be  boiled ; 
and  when  their  food  was  ready,  they  sat  down.  And  it  was  in 
this  wise.  Geraint  sat  between  the  hoary-headed  man  and  his 
wife,  and  the  maiden  served  them.     And  they  ate  and  drank. 

And  when  they  had  finished  eating,  Geraint  talked  with  the 
hoary-headed  man,  and  he  asked  him  in  the  first  place  to  whom 
belonged  the  palace  that  he  was  in.  ''Truly,"  said  he,  'Mt 
was  I  that  built  it,  and  to  me  also  belonged  the  city  and  the 
castle  which  thou  saw  est."  "Alas  !"  said  Geraint,  "  how  is  it 
that  thou  hast  lost  them  now?"  "  I  lost  a  great  earldom  as  well 
as  these,"  said  he,  "and  this  is  how  I  lost  them.  I  had  a 
nephew,  the  son  of  my  brother,  and  I  took  care  of  his  posses- 
sions ;  but  he  was  impatient  to  enter  upon  them,  so  he  made  war 
upon  me,  and  wrested  from  me  not  only  his  own,  but  also  my 
estates,  except  this  castle."  "Good  sir,"  said  Geraint,  "wilt 
thou  tell  me  wherefore  came  the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the 
dwarf  just  now  into  the  town,  and  what  is  the  preparation  which 
I  saw,  and  the  putting  of  arms  in  order?"  "I  will  do  so," 
said  he.  "The  preparations  are  for  the  game  that  is  to  be  held 
to-morrow  by  the  young  earl,  which  will  be  on  this  wise.  In 
the  midst  of  a  meadow  which  is  here,  two  forks  will  be  set  up, 
and  upon  the  two  forks  a  silver  rod,  and  upon  the  silver  rod  a 
sparrow-hawk,  and  for  the  sparrow-hawk  there  will  be  a  tourna- 
ment. And  to  the  tournament  will  go  all  the  array  thou  didst 
see  in  the  city,  of  men  and  of  horses  and  of  arms.  And  with 
each  man  will  go  the  lady  he  loves  best ;  and  no  man  can  just 
for  the  sparrow-hawk  except  the  lady  he  loves  best  be  with  him. 
And  the  knight  that  thou  sawest  has  gained  the  sparrow-hawk 


UNIVERSITY  ;/ 

or  Jf 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  SPARROW-HAWK.  245 

these  two  years ;  and  if  he  gains  it  the  third  year,  he  will  be 
called*the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  from  that  time  forth." 

The  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-Hawk. 

*'Sir,"  said  Geraint,  ''what  is  thy  counsel  to  me  concerning 
this  knight,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  the  maiden  of  Guin- 
evere received  from  the  dwarf?"  And  Geraint  told  the  hoary- 
headcd  man  what  the  insult  was  that  the  maiden  had  received. 
"It  is  not  easy  to  counsel  thee,  inasmuch  as  thou  hast  neither 
dame  nor  maiden  belonging  to  thee,  for  whom  thou  canst  just. 
Yet  I  have  arms  here,  which  thou  couldst  have,  and  there  is  my 
horse  also,  if  he  seem  to  thee  better  than  thine  own."  *' Ah, 
sir,"  said  he,  ''Heaven  reward  thee!  But  my  own  horse,  to 
which  I  am  accustomed,  together  with  thine  arms,  will  suffice 
me.  And  if,  when  the  appointed  time  shall  come  to-morrow, 
thou  wilt  permit  me,  sir,  to  challenge  for  yonder  maiden  that  is 
thy  daughter,  I  will  engage,  if  I  escape  from  the  tournament,  to 
love  the  maiden  as  long  as  I  live."  "  Gladly  will  I  permit 
thee, ' '  said  the  hoary-headed  man  ;  ' '  and  since  thou  dost  thus 
resolve,  it  is  necessary  that  thy  horse  and  arms  should  be  ready 
to-morrow  at  break  of  day.  For  then  the  Knight  of  the  Spar- 
row-hawk will  make  proclamation,  and  ask  the  lady  he  loves  best 
to  take  the  sparrow-hawk ;  and  if  any  deny  it  to  her,  by  force 
will  he  defend  her  claim.  And  therefore,"  said  the  hoary -headed 
man,  "it  is  needful  for  thee  to  be  there  at  daybreak,  and  we 
three  will  be  with  thee."     And  thus  was  it  settled. 

And  at  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  before  the  dawn  they 
arose  and  arrayed  themselves ;  and  by  the  time  that  it  was  day, 
they  were  all  four  in  the  meadow. 

**  And  when  the  pale  and  bloodless  east  began 
To  quicken  to  the  sun,  across,  and  raised 
Her  mother,  too,  and  hand-in-hand  they  moved 
Down  to  the  meadow  where  the  justs  were  held." — Enid. 

And  there  was  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  making  the 
proclamation,  and  asking  his  lady-love  to  take  the  sparrow-hawk. 
"Take  it  not,"  said  Geraint,  "for  here  is  a  maiden  who  is 
fairer,  and  more  noble,  and  more  comely,  and  who  has  a  better 
claim  to  it  than  thou."     Then  said  the  knight,  "  If  thou  main- 


246  THE  MABINOGEON. 

tainest  the  sparrow-hawk  to  be  due  to  her,  come  forward  and  do 
battle  with  me."  And  Geraint  went  forward  to  the  top  of  the 
meadow,  having  upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse  armor  which 
was  heavy  and  rusty,  and  of  uncouth  shape.  Then  they  encoun- 
tered each  other,  and  they  broke  a  set  of  lances  ;  and  they  broke 
a  second  set,  and  a  third  : 

«*And  thrice 

They  clash' d  together,  and  thrice  they  brake  their  spears. 

Then  each,  dishorsed  and  drawing,  lash'd  at  each 

So  often  and  with  such  blows,  that  all  the  crowd 

Wondered. ' '  —Enid. 

And  when  the  earl  and  his  company  saw  the  Knight  of  the 
Sparrow-hawk  gaining  the  mastery,  there  was  shouting  and  joy 
and  mirth  amongst  them ;  and  the  hoary-headed  man  and  his 
wife  and  his  daughter  were  sorrowful.  And  the  hoary-headed 
man  served  Geraint  with  lances  as  often  as  he  broke  them,  and 
the  dwarf  served  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk.  Then  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  Geraint,  "  O  chieftain,  since  no  other 
will  hold  with  thee,  behold,  here  is  the  lance  which  was  in  my 
hand  on  the  day  when  I  received  the  honor  of  knighthood,  and 
from  that  time  to  this  I  never  broke  it,  and  it  has  an  excellent 
point."  Then  Geraint  took  the  lance,  thanking  the  hoary- 
headed  man.  And  thereupon  the  dwarf  also  brought  a  lance  to 
his  lord.  *'  Behold,  here  is  a  lance  for  thee,  not  less  good  than 
his,"  said  the  dwarf.  "And  bethink  thee  that  no  knight  ever 
withstood  thee  so  long  as  this  one  has  done. "  ' '  I  declare  to 
Heaven,"  said  Geraint,  "that  unless  death  takes  me  quickly 
hence,  he  shall  fare  never  the  better  for  thy  service."  And 
Geraint  pricked  his  horse  towards  him  from  afar,  and,  warning 
him,  he  rushed  upon  him,  and  gave  him  a  blow  so  severe,  and 
furious,  and  fierce  upon  the  face  of  his  shield,  that  he  cleft  it  in 
two,  and  broke  his  armor,  and  burst  his  girths,  so  that  both  he 
and  his  saddle  were  borne  to  the  ground  over  the  horse's  crupper. 
And  Geraint  dismounted  quickly.  And  he  was  wroth,  and  he 
drew  his  sword,  and  rushed  fiercely  upon  him.  Then  the  knight 
also  arose,  and  drew  his  sword  against  Geraint.  And  they  fought 
on  foot  with  their  swords  until  their  arms  struck  sparks  of  fire 
like  stars  from  one  another ;  and  thus  they  continued  fighting 
until  the  blood  and  sweat  obscured  the  light  from  their  eyes. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  SPARROW-HAWK.  24; 

At  length  Geraint  called  to  him  all  his  strength,  and  st  uck  the 
knight  upon  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  that  he  broke  all  his 
head-armor,  and  cut  through  all  the  flesh  and  the  skin,  even  to 
the  skull,  until  he  wounded  the  bone. 

Then  the  knight  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cast  his  sword  from 
his  hand,  and  besought  mercy  from  Geraint.  **0f  a  truth," 
said  he,  ''I  relinquish  my  overdaring  and  my  pride,  and  crave 
thy  mercy ;  and  unless  I  have  time  to  commit  myself  to  Heaven 
for  my  sins,  and  to  talk  with  a  priest,  thy  mercy  will  avail  me 
little."  *'  I  will  grant  thee  grace  upon  these  conditions,"  said 
Geraint : 

'*  First,  thou  thyself,  thy  lady,  and  thy  dwarf, 
Shalt  ride  to  Arthur's  court,  and  being  there, 
Crave  pardon  for  that  insult  done  the  queen. 
And  shalt  abide  her  judgment  on  it ;  next, 
Thou  shalt  give  back  their  earldom  to  thy  kin." — Enid. 

** This  will  I  do  gladly  ;  and  who  art  thou?"  "  I  am  Geraint, 
the  son  of  Erbin ;  and  declare  thou  also  who  thou  art."  *'I 
am  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  he  threw  himself  upon 
his  horse,  and  went  forward  to  Arthur's  court;  and  the  lady 
he  loved  best  went  before  him,  and  the  dwarf,  with  much  lamen- 
tation. 

Then  came  the  young  earl  and  his  hosts  to  Geraint,  and  sa- 
luted him,  and  bade  him  to  his  castle.  *'  I  may  not  go,"  said 
Geraint;  *'but  where  I  was  last  night,  there  will  I  be  to-night 
also."  ''Since  thou  wilt  none  of  my  inviting,  thou  shalt  have 
abundance  of  all  that  I  can  command  for  thee ;  and  I  will  order 
ointment  for  thee,  to  recover  thee  from  thy  fatigues,  and  from 
the  weariness  that  is  upon  thee."  ''  Heaven  reward  thee,"  said 
Geraint,  ''and  I  will  go  to  my  lodging."  And  thus  went  Ge- 
raint and  Earl  Ynywl,  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter.  And  when 
they  reached  the  old  mansion,  the  household  servants  and  attend- 
ants of  the  young  earl  had  arrived,  and  had  arranged  all  the 
apartments,  dressing  them  with  straw  and  with  fire ;  and  in  a 
short  time  the  ointment  was  ready,  and  Geraint  came  there,  and 
they  washed  his  head.  Then  came  the  young  earl  with  forty 
honorable  knights  from  among  his  attendants,  and  those  who 
were  bidden  to  the  tournament.  And  Geraint  came  from  the 
anointing.     And  the  earl  asked  him  to  go  to  the  hall  to  eat. 


248  THE  MABINOGEON. 

"Where  is  the  Earl  Ynywl,"  said  Geraint,  **and  his  wife  and 
his  daughter ?"  "They  are  in  the  chamber  yonder,"  said  the 
earl's  chamberlain,  "arraying  themselves  in  garments  which  the 
earl  has  caused  to  be  brought  for  them."  "  Let  not  the  damsel 
array  herself,"  said  he,  "except  in  her  vest  and  her  veil,  until 
she  come  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  to  be  clad  by  Guinevere  in 
such  garments  as  she  may  choose. '  *  So  the  maiden  did  not  array 
herself. 

Then  they  all  entered  the  hall,  and  they  washed  and  sat  down 
to  meat.  And  thus  were  they  seated.  On  one  side  of  Geraint 
sat  the  young  earl,  and  Earl  Ynywl  beyond  him,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  Geraint  was  the  maiden  and  her  mother.  And  after 
these  all  sat  according  to  their  precedence  in  honor.  And  they 
ate.  And  they  were  served  abundantly,  and  they  received  a 
profusion  of  divers  kinds  of  gifts.  Then  they  conversed  together. 
And  the  young  earl  invited  Geraint  to  visit  him  next  day.  "  I 
will  not,"  said  Geraint.  "To  the  court  of  Arthur  will  I  go 
with  this  maiden  to-morrow.  And  it  is  enough  for  me,  as  long 
as  Earl  Ynywl  is  in  poverty  and  trouble ;  and  I  go  chiefly 
to  seek  to  add  to  his  maintenance.  I  but  ask  thee,"  said 
Geraint,  "to  restore  to  him  what  is  his,  and  what  he  should 
have  received  from  the  time  he  lost  his  possessions  even  until 
this  day."  "That  will  I  do,  gladly,  for  thee,"  answered  he. 
"Then,"  said  Geraint,  "whosoever  is  here  who  owes  homage 
to  Ynywl,  let  him  come  forward,  and  perform  it  on  the  spot." 
And  all  the  men  did  so  ;  and  by  that  treaty  they  abided.  And 
his  castle  and  his  town,  and  all  his  possessions  were  restored  to 
Ynywl.  And  he  received  back  all  that  he  had  lost,  even  to  the 
smallest  jewel. 

Then  spoke  Earl  Ynywl  to  Geraint.  "Chieftain,"  said  he, 
"behold  the  maiden  for  whom  thou  didst  challenge  at  the 
tournament;  I  bestow  her  upon  thee."  "She  shall  go  with 
me,"  said  Geraint,  "to  the  court  of  Arthur,  and  Arthur  and 
Guinevere  shall  dispose  of  her  as  they  will."  And  the  next 
day  they  proceeded  to  Arthur's  court. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Ge'raint,  the  Son  of  Erbin  (Continued). 

Now  this  is  how  Arthur  hunted  the  stag.  The  men  and  the 
dogs  were  divided  into  hunting-parties,  and  the  dogs  were  let 
loose  upon  the  stag.  And  the  last  dog  that  was  let  loose  was 
the  favorite  dog  of  Arthur  ;  Cavall  was  his  name.  And  he  left 
all  the  other  dogs  behind  him,  and  turned  the  stag.  And  at  the 
second  turn  the  stag  came  toward  the  hunting-party  of  Arthur. 
And  Arthur  set  upon  him  ;  and  before  he  could  be  slain  by  any 
other,  Arthur  cut  off  his  head.  Then  they  sounded  the  death- 
horn  for  slaying,  and  they  all  gathered  round. 

Then  came  Kadyriath  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to  him.  '^  Lord," 
said  he,  ''behold,  yonder  is  Guinevere,  and  none  with  her  save 
only  one  maiden."  ''Command  Gildas,  the  son  of  Caw,  and 
all  the  scholars  of  the  court,"  said  Arthur,  "  to  attend  Guinevere 
to  the  palace. "     And  they  did  so. 

Then  they  all  set  forth,  holding  converse  together  concerning 
the  head  of  the  stag,  to  whom  it  should  be  given.  One  wished 
that  it  should  be  given  to  the  lady  best  beloved  by  him,  and 
another  to  the  lady  whom  he  loved  best.  And  so  they  came  to 
the  palace.  And  when  Arthur  and  Guinevere  heard  them  dis- 
puting about  the  head  of  the  stag,  Guinevere  said  to  Arthur  : 
"  My  lord,  this  is  my  counsel  concerning  the  stag's  head;  let 
it  not  be  given  away  until  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  shall  return 
from  the  errand  he  is  upon. ' '  And  Guinevere  told  Arthur  what 
that  errand  was.      "Right  gladly  shall  it  be  so,"  said  Arthur. 

(249) 


250 


THE  MABINOGEON. 


And  Guinevere  caused  a  watch  to  be  set  upon  the  ramparts  for 
Geraint's  coming.  And  after  midday  they  beheld  an  unshapely 
little  man  upon  a  horse,  and  after  him  a  dame  or  a  damsel,  also 
on  horseback,  and  after  her  a  knight  of  large  stature,  bowed 
down,  and  hanging  his  head  low  and  sorrowfully,  and  clad  in 
broken  and  worthless  armor. 

And  before  they  came  near  to  the  gate,  one  of  the  watch  went 
to  Guinevere,  and  told  her  what  kind  of  people  they  saw,  and 
what  aspect  they  bore.  ''  I  know  not  who  they  are,"  said  he. 
*'But  /know,"  said  Guinevere;  ''this  is  the  knight  whom 
Geraint  pursued,  and  methinks  that  he  comes  not  here  by  his 
own  free  will.  But  Geraint  has  overtaken  him,  and  avenged 
the  insult  to  the  maiden  to  the  uttermost. ' '  And  thereupon, 
behold,  a  porter  came  to  the  spot  where  Guinevere  was.  * '  Lady, ' ' 
said  he,  "at  the  gate  there  is  a  knight,  and  I  saw  never  a  man 
of  so  pitiful  an  aspect  to  look  upon  as  he.  Miserable  and  broken 
is  the  armor  that  he  wears,  and  the  hue  of  blood  is  more  con- 
spicuous upon  it  than  its  own  color."  "  Knowest  thou  his 
name?"  said  she.  ''I  do,"  said  he  ;  ''he  tells  me  that  he  is 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  she  replied,  "  I  know  him 
not." 

So  Guinevere  went  to  the  gate  to  meet  him,  and  he  entered. 
And  Guinevere  was  sorry  when  she  saw  the  condition  he  was  in, 
even  though  he  was  accompanied  by  the  churlish  dwarf.  Then 
Edeyrn  saluted  Guinevere.  "  Heaven  protect  thee,"  said  she. 
"Lady,"  said  he,  "Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  thy  best  and 
most  valiant  servant,  greets  thee."  "  Did  he  meet  with  thee?" 
she  asked.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "and  it  was  not  to  my  advantage  ; 
and  that  was  not  his  fault,  but  mine,  lady.  And  Geraint  greets 
thee  well ;  and  in  greeting  thee  he  compelled  me  to  come  hither 
to  do  thy  pleasure  for  the  insult  which  thy  maiden  received  from 
the  dwarf."  "  Now  where  did  he  overtake  thee?"  "  At  the 
place  where  we  were  justing  and  contending  for  the  sparrow- 
hawk,  in  the  town  which  is  now  called  Cardiff.  And  it  was  for 
the  avouchment  of  the  love  of  the  maiden,  the  daughter  of  Earl 
Ynywl,  that  Geraint  justed  at  the  tournament.  And  thereupon 
we  encountered  each  other,  and  he  left  me,  lady,  as  thou  seest." 
"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  when  thinkest  thou  that  Geraint  will  be  here  ?' ' 
"To-morrow,  lady,  I  think  he  will  be  here  with  the  maiden." 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  251 

Then  Arthur  came  to  them.  And  he  saUited  Arthur,  and 
Arthur  gazed  a  long  time  upon  him,  and  was  amazed  to  see  him 
thus.  And  thinking  that  he  knew  him,  he  inquired  of  him, 
*'Art  thou  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd?"  ''I  am,  lord,"  said 
he,  ''andlhave  met  with  much  trouble  and  received  wounds 
unsupportable. "  Then  he  told  Arthur  all  his  adventure. 
**Well,"  said  Arthur,  **from  what  I  hear,  it  behooves  Guine- 
vere to  be  merciful  towards  thee."  ''The  mercy  which  thou 
desirest,  lord,"  said  she,  ''will  I  grant  to  him,  since  it  is  as  in- 
sulting to  thee  that  an  insult  should  be  offered  to  me  as  to  thy- 
self." "Thus  will  it  be  best  to  do,"  said  Arthur ;  "let  this 
man  have  medical  care  until  it  be  known  whether  he  may  live. 
And  if  he  live,  he  shall  do  such  satisfaction  as  shall  be  judged 
best  by  the  men  of  the  court.  And  if  he  die,  too  much  will  be 
the  death  of  such  a  youth  as  Edeyrn  for  an  insult  to  a  maiden." 
"This  pleases  me,"  said  Guinevere.  And  Arthur  caused  Mor- 
gan Tud  to  be  called  to  him.  He  was  the  chief  physician. 
* '  Take  with  thee  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  and  cause  a  chamber 
to  be  prepared  for  him,  and  let  him  have  the  aid  of  medicine  as 
thou  wouldest  do  unto  myself,  if  I  were  wounded ;  and  let  none 
into  his  chamber. to  molest  him,  but  thyself  and  thy  disciples,  to 
administer  to  him  remedies."  "  I  will  do  so  gladly,  lord,"  said 
Morgan  Tud.  Then  said  the  steward  of  the  household, 
"  Whither  is  it  right,  lord,  to  order  the  maiden?"  "  To  Guin- 
evere and  her  handmaidens,"  said  he.  And  the  steward  of  the 
household  so  ordered  her. 

'*  And  rising  up,  he  rode  to  Arthur's  court, 
And  there  the  queen  forgave  him  easily. 
And  being  young,  he  changed  himself,  and  grew 
To  hate  the  sin  that  seem'd  so  like  his  own 
Of  Modred,  Arthur' s  nephew,  and  fell  at  last 
In  the  great  battle  fighting  for  the  king." — Enid. 

The  next  day  came  Geraint  towards  the  court ;  and  there  was 
a  watch  set  on  the  ramparts  by  Guinevere,  lest  he  should  arrive 
unawares.  And  one  of  the  watch  came  to  Guinevere.  "  Lady," 
said  he,  "  methinks  that  I  see  Geraint,  and  a  maiden  with  him. 
He  is  on  horseback,  but  he  has  his  walking  gear  upon  him,  and  the 
maiden  appears  to  be  in  white,  seeming  to  be  clad  in  a  garment 
of  linen."      "Assemble  all  the  women,"  said  Guinevere,  "and 


252  THE  MABINOOEON. 

come  to  meet  Geraint,  to  welcome  him,  and  wish  him  joy." 
And  Guinevere  went  to  meet  Geraint  and  the  maiden.  And 
when  Geraint  came  to  the  place  where  Guinevere  was,  he  sakited 
her.  ''Heaven  prosper  thee,"  said  she,  ''and  welcome  to 
thee."  "Lady,"  said  he,  "  I  earnestly  desired  to  obtain  thee 
satisfaction,  according  to  thy  will ;  and,  behold,  here  is  the 
maiden  through  whom  thou  hadst  thy  revenge. "  "Verily," 
said  Guinevere,  "the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto  her;  and  it 
is  fitting  that  we  should  receive  her  joyfully."  Then  they  went 
in  and  dismounted.  And  Geraint  came  to  where  Arthur  was, 
and  saluted  him.  "Heaven  protect  thee,"  said  Arthur,  "and 
the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto  thee.  And  inasmuch  as  thou 
hast  vanquished  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  thou  hast  had  a  pros- 
perous career."  "  Not  upon  me  be  the  blame,"  said  Geraint; 
"  it  was  through  the  arrogance  of  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  him- 
self, that  we  were  not  friends. "  "  Now, ' '  said  Arthur,  ' '  where 
is  the  maiden  for  whom  I  heard  thou  didst  give  challenge  ?' ' 
"She  is  gone  with  Guinevere  to  her  chamber."  Then  went 
Arthur  to  see  the  maiden.  And  Arthur,  and  all  his  companions, 
and  his  whole  court,  were  glad  concerning  the  maiden.  And 
certain  were  they  all,  that,  had  her  array  been  suitable  to  her 
beauty,  they  had  never  seen  a  maid  fairer  than  she.  And  Arthur 
gave  away  the  maiden  to  Geraint.  And  the  usual  bond  made 
between  two  persons  was  made  between  Geraint  and  the  maiden, 
and  the  choicest  of  all  Guinevere's  apparel  was  given  to  the 
maiden ;  and  thus  arrayed,  she  appeared  comely  and  graceful  to 
all  who  beheld  her.  And  that  day  and  the  night  were  spent  in 
abundance  of  minstrelsy,  and  ample  gifts  of  liquor,  and  a  mul- 
titude of  games.  And  when  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  to  sleep, 
they  went.  And  in  the  chamber  where  the  couch  of  Arthur  and 
Guinevere  was,  the  couch  of  Geraint  and  Enid  was  prepared. 
And  from  that  time  she  became  his  wife.  And  the  next  day 
Arthur  satisfied  all  the  claimants  upon  Geraint  with  bountiful 
gifts. 

'*  Now  thrice  that  morning  Guinevere  had  climb'd 
The  giant  tower,  from  whose  high  crest,  they  say, 
Men  saw  the  goodly  hills  of  Somerset, 
And  white  sails  flying  on  the  yellow  sea ; 
But  not  to  goodly  hill  or  yellow  sea 
Look'd  the  fair  queen,  but  up  the  vale  of  Usk, 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  EUBIN,  253 

By  the  flat  meadow,  till  she  saw  them  come  ; 

And  then  descending  met  them  at  the  gates, 

Embraced  her  with  all  welcome  as  a  friend, 

And  did  her  honor  as  the  prince's  bride, 

And  clothed  her  for  her  bridals  like  the  sun  ; 

And  all  that  week  was  old  Caerleon  gay, 

For  by  the  hands  of  Dubric,  the  high  saint. 

They  twain  were  wedded  with  all  ceremony." — Enid. 

And  the  maiden  took  up  her  abode  in  the  palace,  and  she  had 
many  companions,  both  men  and  women,  and  there  was  no 
maiden  more  esteemed  than  she  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

Then  spake  Guinevere.  *' Rightly  did  I  judge,"  said  she, 
'*  concerning  the  head  of  the  stag,  that  it  should  not  be  given 
to  any  until  Geraint's  return  ;  and  behold,  here  is  a  fit  occasion 
for  bestowing  it.  Let  it  be  given  to  Enid,  the  daughter  of 
Ynywl,  the  most  illustrious  maiden.  And  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  will  begrudge  it  her,  for  between  her  and  every  one  here 
there  exists  nothing  but  love  and  friendship."  Much  applauded 
was  this  by  them  all,  and  by  Arthur  also.  And  the  head  of  the 
stag  was  given  to  Enid.  And  thereupon  her  fame  increased,  and 
her  friends  became  more  in  number  than  before.  And  Geraint 
from  that  time  forth  loved  the  hunt,  and  the  tournament,  and 
hard  encounters  ;  and  he  came  victorious  from  them  all.  And 
a  year,  and  a  second,  and  a  third,  he  proceeded  thus,  until  his 
fame  had  flown  over  the  face  of  the  kingdom. 

And,  once  upon  a  time,  Arthur  was  holding  his  court  at  Caer- 
leon upon  Usk ;  and  behold,  there  came  to  him  ambassadors, 
wise  and  prudent,  full  of  knowledge  and  eloquent  of  speech, 
and  they  saluted  Arthur.  ' '  Heaven  prosper  you  ! ' '  said  Arthur, 
*'and  whence  do  you  come?"  ''We  come,  lord,"  said  they, 
''from  Cornwall  ;  and  we  are  ambassadors  from  Erbin,  the  son 
of  Custennin,  thy  uncle,  and  our  mission  is  unto  thee.  And  he 
greets  thee  well,  as  an  uncle  should  greet  his  nephew,  and  as  a 
vassal  should  greet  his  lord.  And  he  represents  unto  thee  that 
he  waxes  heavy  and  feeble,  and  is  advancing  in  years.  And  the 
neighboring  chiefs,  knowing  this,  grow  insolent  towards  him, 
and  covet  his  land  and  possessions.  And  he  earnestly  beseeches 
thee,  lord,  to  permit  Geraint  his  son  to  return  to  him,  to  protect 
his  possessions,  and  to  become  acquainted  with  his  boundaries. 
And  unto  him  he  represents  that  it  were  better  for  him  to  spend 


254  THE  MABINOGEOK 

the  flower  of  his  youth  and  the  prime  of  his  age  in  preserving 
his  own  boundaries,  than  in  tournaments  which  are  productive 
of  no  profit,  although  he  obtains  glory  in  them." 

**Well,"  said  Arthur,  "go  and  divest  yourselves  of  your 
accoutrements,  and  take  food,  and  refresh  yourselves  after  your 
fatigues ;  and  before  you  go  from  hence  you  shall  have  an 
answer."  And  they  went  to  eat.  And  Arthur  considered  that 
it  would  go  hard  with  him  to  let  Geraint  depart  from  him,  and 
from  his  court ;  neither  did  he  think  it  fair  that  his  cousin  should 
be  restrained  from  going  to  protect  his  dominions  and  his  bound- 
aries, seeing  that  his  father  was  unable  to  do  so.  No  less  was 
the  grief  and  regret  of  Guinevere,  and  all  her  women,  and  all 
her  damsels,  through  fear  that  the  maiden  would  leave  them. 
And  that  day  and  that  night  were  spent  in  abundance  of  feast- 
ing. And  Arthur  told  Geraint  the  cause  of  the  mission,  and  of 
the  coming  of  the  ambassadors  to  him  out  of  Cornwall.  ''  Truly," 
said  Geraint,  "be  it  to  my  advantage  or  disadvantage,  lord,  I 
will  do  according  to  thy  will  concerning  this  embassy.  "Be- 
hold," said  Arthur,  "  though  it  grieves  me  to  part  with  thee,  it 
is  my  counsel  that  thou  go  to  dwell  in  thine  own  dominions,  and 
to  defend  thy  boundaries,  and  take  with  thee  to  accompany  thee 
as  many  as  thou  wilt  of  those  thou  lovest  best  among  my  faithful 
ones,  and  among  thy  friends,  and  among  thy  companions  in 
arms."  "Heaven  reward  thee!  and  this  will  I  do,"  said 
Geraint.  "What  discourse,"  said  Guinevere,  "do  I  hear  be- 
tween you  ?  Is  it  of  those  who  are  to  conduct  Geraint  to  his 
country?"  "It  is,"  said  Arthur.  "  Then  is  it  needful  forme 
to  consider,"  said  she,  "concerning  companions  and  a  provision 
for  the  lady  that  is  with  me."  "Thou  wilt  do  well,"  said 
Arthur. 

And  that  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  the  next  day  the 
ambassadors  were  permitted  to  depart,  and  they  were  told  that 
Geraint  should  follow  them.  And  on  the  third  day  Geraint  set 
forth,  and  many  went  with  him, — Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar, 
and  Riogoned,  the  son  of  the  king  of  Ireland,  and  Ondyaw,  the 
son  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  Gwilim,  the  son  of  the  ruler  of 
the  Franks,  Howel,  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Brittany,  Perceval, 
the  son  of  Evrawk,  Gwyr,  a  judge  in  the  court  of  Arthur,  Bed- 
wyr,  the  son  of  Bedrawd,  Kai,  the  son  of  Kyner,  Odyar,  the 


GEBAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  255 

Frank,  and  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd.  Said  Geraint,  *'  I  think 
I  shall  have  enough  of  knighthood  with  me. ' '  And  they  set 
forth.  And  never  was  there  seen  a  fairer  host  journeying  towards 
the  Severn. 

"  He  made  this  pretext,  that  his  princedom  lay 
Close  on  the  borders  of  a  territory 
Wherein  were  bandit  earls,  and  caitiff  knights, 
Assassins,  and  all  flyers  from  the  hand 
Of  justice,  and  whatever  loathes  a  law  ; 
And  therefore,  till  the  king  himself  should  please 
To  cleanse  this  common  sewer  of  all  his  realm, 
He  craved  a  fair  permission  to  depart, 
And  there  defend  his  marches  ;  and  the  king 
Mused  for  a  little  on  his  plea,  but,  last, 
Allowing  it,  the  prince  and  Enid  rode, 
And  fifty  knights  rode  with  them,  to  the  shores 
Of  Severn."— Enid. 

And  on  the  other  side  of  the  Severn  were  the  nobles  of  Erbin, 
the  son  of  Custennin,  and  his  foster-father  at  the  head,  to  wel- 
come Geraint  with  gladness ;  and  many  of  the  women  of  the 
court,  with  his  mother  to  receive  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl, 
his  wife.  And  there  was  great  rejoicing  and  gladness  through- 
out the  whole  court,  and  through  all  the  country,  concerning 
Geraint,  because  of  the  greatness  of  their  love  to  him,  and  of 
the  greatness  of  the  fame  which  he  had  gained  since  he  went 
from  amongst  them,  and  because  he  was  come  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  dominions,  and  to  preserve  his  boundaries.  And 
they  came  to  the  court.  And  in  the  court  they  had  ample  enter- 
tainment, and  a  multitude  of  gifts,  and  abundance  of  liquor,  and 
a  sufficiency  of  service,  and  a  variety  of  games.  And  to  do 
honor  to  Geraint,  all  the  chief  men  of  the  country  were  invited 
that  night  to  visit  him.  And  they  passed  that  day  and  that 
night  in  the  utmost  enjoyment.  And  at  dawn  next  day  Erbin 
arose,  and  summoned  to  him  Geraint,  and  the  noble  persons 
who  had  borne  him  company.  And  he  said  to  Geraint :  '*  I  am 
a  feeble  and  an  aged  man,  and  whilst  I  was  able  to  maintain  the 
dominion  for  thee  and  for  myself  I  did  so.  But  thou  art  young, 
and  in  the  flower  of  thy  vigor  and  of  thy  youth.  Henceforth 
do  thou  preserve  thy  possessions."  "Truly,"  said  Geraint, 
**with  my  consent  thou  shalt  not  give  the  power  over  thy  do- 


256  THE  MABINOOEON. 

minions  at  this  time  into  my  hands,  and  thou  shalt  not  take 
me  from  Arthur's  court."  "  Into  thy  hands  will  I  give  them," 
said  Erbin,  ''and  this  day  also  shalt  thou  receive  the  homage  of 
thy  subjects. ' ' 

Then  said  Gawain,  ''It  were  better  for  thee  to  satisfy  those 
who  have  boons  to  ask,  to-day,  and  to-morrow  thou  canst 
receive  the  homage  of  thy  dominions."  So  all  that  had  boons 
to  ask  were  summoned  into  one  place.  And  Kadyrieth  came  to 
them  to  know  what  were  their  requests.  And  every  one  asked 
that  which  he  desired.  And  the  followers  of  Arthur  began  to 
make  gifts,  and  immediately  the  men  of  Cornwall  came,  and 
gave  also.  And  they  were  not  long  in  giving,  so  eager  was 
every  one  to  bestow  gifts.  And  of  those  who  came  to  ask  gifts, 
none  departed  unsatisfied.  And  that  day  and  that  night  were 
spent  in  the  utmost  enjoyment. 

And  the  next  day  at  dawn,  Erbin  desired  Geraint  to  send 
messengers  to  the  men  to  ask  them  whether  it  was  displeasing  to 
them  that  he  should  come  to  receive  their  homage,  and  whether 
they  had  anything  to  object  to  him.  Then  Geraint  sent  ambas- 
sadors to  the  men  of  Cornwall  to  ask  them  this.  And  they  all 
said  that  it  would  be  the  fulness  of  joy  and  honor  to  them  for 
Geraint  to  come  and  receive  their  homage.  So  he  received  the 
homage  of  such  as  were  there.  And  the  day  after,  the  followers 
of  Arthur  intended  to  go  away.  "  It  is  too  soon  for  you  to  go 
away  yet,"  said  he  ;  "stay  with  me  until  I  have  finished  receiv- 
ing the  homage  of  my  chief  men,  who  have  agreed  to  come  to 
me."  And  they  remained  with  him  until  he  had  done  so. 
Then  they  set  forth  towards  the  court  of  Arthur.  And  Geraint 
went  to  bear  them  company,  and  Enid  also,  as  far  as  Diganwy ; 
there  they  parted.  And  Ondyaw,  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, said  to  Geraint,  "  Go,  now,  and  visit  the  uttermost  parts 
of  thy  dominions,  and  see  well  to  the  boundaries  of  thy  territories ; 
and  if  thou  hast  any  trouble  respecting  them,  send  unto  thy 
companions."  "Heaven  reward  thee  !"  said  Geraint;  "and 
this  will  I  do. "  And  Geraint  journeyed  to  the  uttermost  parts 
of  his  dominions.  And  experienced  guides,  and  the  chief  men 
of  his  country,  went  with  him.  And  the  furthermost  point  that 
they  showed  him  he  kept  possession  of. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Ge'raint  and  E'nid— The  Earl  Li'mours — 
The  Earl  Doorm. 

Geraint,  as  he  had  been  used  to  do  when  he  was  at  Arthur's 
court,  frequented  tournaments.  And  he  became  acquainted  with 
valiant  and  mighty  men,  until  he  had  gained  as  much  fame  there 
as  he  had  formerly  done  elsewhere.  And  he  enriched  his  court, 
and  his  companions,  and  his  nobles,  with  the  best  horses  and 
the  best  arms,  and  with  the  best  and  most  valuable  jewels,  and 
he  ceased  not  until  his  fame  had  flown  over  the  face  of  the  whole 
kingdom. 

*'  Before  Geraint,  the  scourge  of  the  enemy, 

I  saw  steeds  white  with  foam, 

And  after  the  shout  of  battle  a  fearful  torrent." — Hen. 

When  he  knew  that  it  was  thus,  he  began  to  love  ease  and 
pleasure,  for  there  was  no  one  who  was  worth  his  opposing.  And 
he  loved  his  wife,  and  liked  to  continue  in  the  palace,  with  min- 
strelsy and  diversions.  So  he  began  to  shut  himself  up  in  the 
chamber  of  his  wife,  and  he  took  no  delight  in  anything  besides, 
insomuch  that  he  gave  up  the  friendship  of  his  nobles,  together 
with  his  htmting  and  his  amusements,  and  lost  the  hearts  of  all 
the  host  in  his  court.  And  there  was  murmuring  and  scoffing 
concerning  him  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  palace,  on  account 
of  his  relinquishing  so  completely  their  companionship  for  the 
love  of  his  wife. 

' '  They 
Began  to  scoff  and  jeer  and  babble  of  him 
As  of  a  prince  whose  manhood  was  all  gone. 
And  molten  down  in  mere  uxoriousness. " — Enid. 

I?  (257) 


258  THE  MABINOOEON. 

These  tidings  came  to  Erbin.  And  when  Erbin  had  heard  these 
things,  he  spoke  unto  Enid,  and  inquired  of  her  whether  it  was 
she  that  had  caused  Geraint  to  act  thus,  and  to  forsake  his  people 
and  his  hosts.  **Not  I,  by  my  confession  unto  Heaven,"  said 
she  ;  *'  there  is  nothing  more  hateful  unto  me  than  this."  And 
she  knew  not  what  she  should  do,  for,  although  it  was  hard  for 
her  to  own  this  to  Geraint,  yet  was  it  not  more  easy  for  her  to 
listen  to  what  she  heard,  without  warning  Geraint  concerning 
it.     And  she  was  very  sorrowful. 

One  morning  in  the  summer-time  they  were  upon  their  couch, 
and  Geraint  lay  upon  the  edge  of  it.  And  Enid  was  without 
sleep  in  the  apartment,  which  had  windows  of  glass ;  and  the 
sun  shone  upon  the  couch.  And  the  clothes  had  slipped  from 
off  his  arms  and  his  breast,  and  he  was  asleep.  Then  she  gazed 
upon  the  marvellous  beauty  of  his  appearance,  and  she  said, 

"  O  noble  breast  and  all-puissant  arms, 
Am  I  the  cause,  I  the  poor  cause  that  men 
Reproach  you,  saying  all  your  force  is  gone? 
I  am  the  cause  because  I  dare  not  speak 
And  tell  him  what  I  think  and  what  they  say. 
And  yet  I  hate  that  he  should  linger  here  ; 
I  cannot  love  my  lord  and  not  his  name. 
Far  liever  had  I  gird  his  harness  on  him, 
And  ride  with  him  to  battle." — Enid. 

As  she  said  this  the  tears  dropped  from  her  eyes,  and  they  fell 
upon  his  breast.  And  the  tears  she  shed,  and  the  words  she 
had  spoken,  awoke  him.  And  another  thing  contributed  to 
awaken  him,  and  that  was  the  idea  that  it  was  not  in  thinking 
of  him  that  she  spoke  thus,  but  that  it  was  because  she  loved 
some  other  man  more  than  him,  and  that  she  wished  for  other 
society.     Thereupon  Geraint  was  troubled  in  his  mind, 

"And  shook  his  drowsy  squire  awake  and  cried 

*  My  charger  and  her  palfrey,'  then  to  her, 

*  I  will  ride  forth  into  the  wilderness  ; 
For  tho'  it  seems  my  spurs  are  yet  to  win, 

I  have  not  fall'  n  so  low  as  some  would  wish. 
And  you,  put  on  your  worst  and  meanest  dress 
And  ride  with  me.'     And  Enid  ask'd,  amazed, 

*  If  Enid  errs,  let  Enid  learn  her  fault.'  "—Enid. 

So  she  arose,  and  clothed  herself  in  her  meanest  garments. 


GERAINT  AND  ENID,  2S9 

**Then  she  bethought  her  of  a  faded  silk, 
A  faded  mantle  and  a  faded  veil, 
And  moving  toward  a  cedarn  cabinet, 
Wherein  she  kept  them  folded  reverently 
With  sprigs  of  summer  laid  between  the  folds, 
She  took  them,  and  array' d  herself  therein, 
Remembering  when  first  he  came  on  her 
Drest  in  that  dress,  and  how  he  loved  her  in  it, 
And  all  her  foolish  fears  about  the  dress. 
And  all  his  journey  to  her,  as  himself 
Had  told  her,  and  their  coming  to  the  court." — Enid. 

'*  I  know  nothing,  lord,"  said  she,  ''  of  thy  meaning."  ''  Nei- 
ther wilt  thou  know  at  this  time,"  said  he. 

Then  Geraint  went  to  see  Erbin.  *'Sir,"  said  he,  ^'lam 
going  upon  a  quest,  and  I  am  not  certain  when  I  may  come 
back.  Take  heed,  therefore,  unto  thy  possessions  until  my  re- 
turn." "  I  will  do  so,"  said  he  ;  "  but  it  is  strange  to  me  that 
thou  shouldst  go  so  suddenly.  And  who  will  proceed  with  thee, 
since  thou  art  not  strong  enough  to  traverse  the  land  of  Loegyr 
alone?"  *'  But  one  person  only  will  go  with  me."  "  Heaven 
counsel  thee,  my  son,"  said  Erbin,  "and  may  many  attach  them- 
selves to  thee  in  Loegyr."  Then  went  Geraint  to  the  place 
where  his  horse  was,  and  it  was  equipped  with  foreign  armor, 
heavy  and  shining.  And  he  desired  Enid  to  mount  her  horse, 
and  to  ride  forward,  and  to  keep  a  long  way  before  him. 

* ' '  I  charge  you  ride  before, 
Ever  a  good  way  on  before  ;  and  this 
I  charge  you,  on  your  duty  as  a  wife, 
Whatever  happens,  not  to  speak  to  me, 
No,  not  a  word  !'   and  Enid  was  aghast." — Enid. 

So  they  set  forward.  And  he  did  not  choose  the  pleasantest  and 
most  frequented  road,  but  that  which  was  the  wildest,  and  most 
beset  by  thieves  and  robbers  and  venomous  animals. 

And  they  came  to  a  high-road,  which  they  followed  till  they 
saw  a  vast  forest ;  and  they  saw  three  armed  horsemen  come  forth 
from  the  forest.  When  the  armed  men  saw  them,  they  said  one 
to  another,  ''  Here  is  a  good  occasion  for  us  to  capture  two  horses 
and  armor,  and  a  lady  likewise  ;  for  this  we  shall  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  doing  against  yonder  single  knight,  who  hangs  his  head 
so  pensively  and  heavily."     Enid  heard  this  discourse,  and  she 


26o  THE  MABINOQEON. 

knew  not  what  she  should  do  through  fear  of  Geraint,  who  had 
told  her  to  be  silent.  **  The  vengeance  of  Heaven  be  upon  me," 
said  she,  *Mf  I  would  not  rather  receive  my  death  from  his  hand 
than  from  the  hand  of  any  other  ;  and  though  he  should  slay  me, 
yet  will  I  speak  to  him,  lest  I  should  have  the  misery  to  witness 
his  death."  So  she  waited  for  Geraint  until  he  came  near  to 
her.  *'Lord,"  said  she,  **  didst  thou  hear  the  words  of  those 
men  concerning  thee?"  Then  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  looked 
at  her  angrily.  **Thou  hadst  only,"  said  he,  "to  hold  thy 
peace,  as  I  bade  thee.  I  wish  but  for  silence,  and  not  for  warn- 
ing. And  though  thou  shouldst  desire  to  see  my  defeat  and  my 
death  by  the  hands  of  those  men,  yet  do  I  feel  no  dread. ' ' 

**  Then  Enid  waited  pale  and  sorrowful, 
And  down  upon  him  bare  the  bandit  three." — Enid. 

Then  the  foremost  of  them  couched  his  lance,  and  rushed  upon 
Geraint.  And  he  received  him,  and  that  not  feebly.  But  he 
let  the  thrust  go  by  him,  while  he  struck  the  horseman  upon  the 
centre  of  his  shield  in  such  a  manner  that  his  shield  was  split, 
and  his  armor  broken,  so  that  a  cubit's  length  of  the  shaft  of 
Geraint' s  lance  passed  through  his  body,  and  sent  him  to  the 
earth,  the  length  of  the  lance  over  his  horse's  crupper.  Then 
the  second  horseman  attacked  him  furiously,  being  wroth  at  the 
death  of  his  companion.  But  with  one  thrust  Geraint  overthrew 
him  also,  and  killed  him  as  'he  had  done  the  other.  Then  the 
third  set  upon  him,  and  he  killed  him  in  like  manner.  Sad  and 
sorrowful  was  the  maiden  as  she  saw  all  this.  Geraint  dismounted 
his  horse,  and  took  the  arms  of  the  men  he  had  slain,  and  placed 
them  upon  their  saddles,  and  tied  together  the  reins  of  their 
horses  ;  and  he  mounted  his  horse  again.  ''  Behold  what  thou 
must  do,"  said  he  ;  "take  the  three  horses,  and  drive  them  be- 
fore thee,  and  proceed  forward  as  I  bade  thee  just  now.  And  say 
not  one  word  unto  me,  unless  I  speak  first  unto  thee.  And  I 
declare  unto  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  if  thou  doest  not  thus,  it  will 
be  to  thy  cost."  "I  will  do  as  far  as  I  can,  lord,"  said  she, 
"according  to  thy  desire." 

So  the  maiden  went  forward,  keeping  in  advance  of  Geraint, 
as  he  had  desired  her;  and  it  grieved  him  as  much  as  his  wrath 
would  permit  to  see  a  maiden  so  illustrious  as  she  having  so  much 


The  Three  Bandits. 


QERAINT  AND  ENID.  26 1 

trouble  with  the  care  of  the  horses.  Then  they  reached  a  wood, 
and  it  was  both  deep  and  vast,  and  in  the  wood  night  overtook 
them.  *' Ah,  maiden,"  said  he,  "it  is  vain  to  attempt  proceed- 
ing forward."  ''Well,  lord,"  said  she,  ''whatever  thou  wishest, 
we  will  do."  "  It  will  be  best  for  us,"  he  answered,  "  to  rest 
and  wait  for  the  day,  in  order  to  pursue  our  journey."  "That 
will  we,  gladly,"  said  she.  And  they  did  so.  Having  dis- 
mounted himself,  he  took  her  down  from  her  horse.  "  I  cannot 
by  any  means  refrain  from  sleep,  through  weariness,"  said  he; 
"  do  thou  therefore  watch  the  horses,  and  sleep  not."  "  I  will, 
lord,"  said  she.  Then  he  went  to  sleep  in  his  armor,  and  thus 
passed  the  night,  which  was  not  long  at  that  season.  And  when 
she  saw  the  dawn  of  day  appear,  she  looked  around  her  to  see  if 
he  were  waking,  and  thereupon  he  woke.  Then  he  arose,  and 
said  unto  her,  "Take  the  horses  and  ride  on,  and  keep  straight 
on  as  thou  didst  yesterday. ' '  And  they  left  the  wood,  and  they 
came  to  an  open  country,  with  meadows  on  one  hand,  and 
mowers  mowing  the  meadows.  And  there  was  a  river  before 
them,  and  the  horses  bent  down  and  drank  of  the  water.  And 
they  went  up  out  of  the  river  by  a  lofty  steep ;  and  there  they 
met  a  slender  stripling  with  a  satchel  about  his  neck,  and  they 
saw  that  there  was  something  in  the  satchel,  but  they  knew  not 
what  it  was.  And  he  had  a  small  blue  pitcher  in  his  hand,  and 
a  bowl  on  the  mouth  of  the  pitcher. 

"And  down  a  rocky  pathway  from  the  place 
There  came  a  fair-hair' d  youth,  that  in  his  hand 
Bare  victual  for  the  mowers  :  and  Geraint 
Had  ruth  again  on  Enid  looking  pale  : 
Then,  moving  downward  to  the  meadow-ground. 
He,  when  the  fair-hair' d  youth  came  by  him,  said, 
'Friend,  let  her  eat ;  the  damsel  is  so  faint.' 
*  Yea,  willingly,'  replied  the  youth  ;   'and  you. 
My  lord,  eat  also,  tho'  the  fare  is  coarse, 
And  only  meet  for  mowers  ;'   then  set  down 
His  basket,  and  dismounting  on  the  sward 

They  let  the  horses  graze,  and  ate  themselves."— Enid. 

■ 

And  when  they  had  finished,  the  youth  arose  and  said  to  Ge 
raint,  "My  lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  now  go  and  fetch 
some  food  for  the  mowers."      "Go  first  to  the  town,"  said  Ge- 


262  THE  MABINOGEON, 

raint,  ''and  take  a  lodging  for  me  in  the  best  place  that  thou 
knowest,  and  the  most  commodious  one  for  the  horses ;  and  take 
thou  whichever  horse  and  arms  thou  choosest,  in  payment  for 
thy  service  and  thy  gift."  "  Heaven  reward  thee,  lord  !"  said 
the  youth ;  "and  this  would  be  ample  to  repay  services  much 
greater  than  those  I  have  rendered  unto  thee."  And  to  the  town 
went  the  youth,  and  he  took  the  best  and  the  most  pleasant  lodg-. 
ings  that  he  knew ;  and  after  that  he  went  to  the  palace,  having 
the  horse  and  armor  with  him,  and  proceeded  to  the  place  where 
the  earl  was,  and  told  him  all  his  adventure.  *^  I  go  now,  lord," 
said  he,  "to  meet  the  knight,  and  to  conduct  him  to  his  lodg- 
ing." "Go,  gladly,"  said  the  earl;  "  and  right  joyfully  shall 
he  be  received  here,  if  he  so  come."  The  earl  was  the  great 
Limours,  one  of  the  most  terrible  knights  in  the  country. 

The  Earl  Li'mours. 

And  the  youth  went  to  meet  Geraint,  and  told  him  that  he 
would  be  received  gladly  by  the  earl  in  his  own  palace  ;  but  he 
would  go  only  to  his  lodgings.  And  he  had  a  goodly  chamber, 
in  which  was  plenty  of  straw  and  drapery,  and  a  spacious  and 
commodious  place  he  had  for  the  horses  ;  and  the  youth  prepared 
for  them  plenty  of  provender.  After  they  had  disarrayed  them- 
selves, Geraint  spoke  thus  to  Enid:  "Go,"  said  he,  "to  the 
other  side  of  the  chamber,  and  come  not  to  this  side  of  the 
house ;  and  thou  mayst  call  to  thee  the  woman  of  the  house,  if 
thou  wilt."  "I  will  do,  lord,"  said  she,  "as  thou  sayest." 
Thereupon  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  Geraint,  and  welcomed 
him.  And  after  they  had  eaten  and  drank,  Geraint  went  to  sleep, 
and  so  did  Enid  also. 

In  the  evening,  behold,  the  earl  came  to  visit  Geraint,  and  his 
twelve  honorable  knights  with  him.  And  Geraint  rose  up  and 
welcomed  him.  Then  they  all  sat  down  according  to  their  prece- 
dence in  honor.  And  the  earl  conversed  with  Geraint,  and  in- 
quired of  him  the  object  of  his  journey.  "I  have  none,"  he 
replied,  "but  to  seek  adventures  and  to  follow  my  own  inclina- 
tion. ' '  Then  the  earl  cast  his  eye  upon  Enid,  and  he  looked  at 
her  steadfastly.  And  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  maiden 
fairer  or  more  comely  than  she.  And  he  set  all  his  thoughts  and 
his  affections  upon  her. 


THE  EARL  LIMOURS.  263 

**  Then,  when  the  prince  was  merry,  ask'd  Limours, 
*  Your  leave,  my  lord,  to  cross  the  room  and  speak 
To  your  good  damsel  there,  who  sits  apart. 
And  seems  so  lonely.'  " — Enid. 

'*  Thou  hast  it  gladly,"  said  he.  So  the  earl  went  to  the  place 
where  the  maiden  was,  and  spake  with  her.  ' '  Ah  !  maiden, ' ' 
said  he,  ''  it  cannot  be  pleasant  to  thee  to  journey  with  yonder 
man."  ''  It  is  not  unpleasant  to  me,"  said  she.  "  Thou  hast 
neither  youths  nor  maidens  to  serve  thee,"  said  he.  *'  Truly," 
she  replied,  "it  is  more  pleasant  for  me  to  follow  yonder  man 
than  to  be  served  by  youths  and  maidens."  "  I  will  give  thee 
good  counsel,"  said  he:  ''all  my  earldom  will  I  place  in  thy 
possession,  if  thou  wilt  dwell  with  me. ' ' 

**  Enid,  the  pilot  star  of  my  lone  life, 
Enid,  my  early  and  my  only  love." — Enid. 

"That  will  I  not,"  she  said;  "yonder  man  was  the  first  to 
whom  my  faith  was  ever  pledged ;  and  shall  I  prove  inconstant 
to  him  ?"  "  Thou  art  in  the  wrong,"  said  the  earl ;  "  if  I  slay 
the  man  yonder,  I  can  keep  thee  with  me  as  long  as  I  choose ; 
and  when  thou  no  longer  pleasest  me,  I  can  turn  thee  away.  But 
if  thou  goest  with  me  by  thy  own  good-will,  I  protest  that  our 
union  shall  continue  as  long  as  I  remain  alive. ' '  Then  she  pon- 
dered those  words  of  his,  and  she  considered  that  it  was  advis- 
able to  encourage  him  in  his  request.  "  Behold  then,  chieftain, 
this  is  most  expedient  for  thee  to  do  to  save  me  from  all  reproach  ; 
come  here  to-morrow  and  take  me  away  as  though  I  knew  nothing 
thereof"  "I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  So  he  arose  and  took  his 
leave,  and  went  forth  with  his  attendants.  And  she  told  not 
then  to  Geraint  any  of  the  conversation  which  she  had  had  with 
the  earl,  lest  it  should  rouse  his  anger,  and  cause  him  uneasiness 
and  care. 

And  at  the  usual  hour  they  went  to  sleep.     And  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  night  Enid  slept  a  little. 

"Anon  she  rose,  and  stepping  lightly,  heap'd 
The  pieces  of  his  armor  in  one  place, 
All  to  be  there  against  a  sudden  need." — Enid. 

And  although  fearful  of  her  errand,  she   came  to  the  side  of 


264  THE  MABINOGEOK 

Geraint's  bed  ;  and  she  spoke  to  him  softly  and  gently,  saying, 
**  My  lord,  arise,  and  clothe  thyself,  for  these  were  the  words  of 
the  earl  to  me,  and  his  intention  concerning  me. ' '  So  she  told 
Geraint  all  that  had  passed.  And  although  he  was  wroth  with 
her,  he  took  warning  and  clothed  himself.  And  she  lighted  a 
candle  that  he  might  have  light  to  do  so.  ''Leave  there  the 
\candle,"  said  he,  ''and  desire  the  man  of  the  house  to  come 
here."  Then  she  went,  and  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  him. 
"  Dost  thou  know  how  much  I  owe  thee?"  asked  Geraint.  "I 
think  thou  owest  but  little."  "Take  the  three  horses  and 
the  three  suits  of  armor."  "Heaven  reward  thee,  lord,"  said 
he,"  but  I  spent  not  the  value  of  one  suit  of  armor  upon  thee." 
"  For  that  reason,"  said  he,  "thou  wilt  be  the  richer.  And 
now,  wilt  thou  come  to  guide  me  out  of  the  town?"  "I  will 
gladly,"  said  he ;  "and  in  which  direction  dost  thou  intend  to 
go?"  "I  wish  to  leave  the  town  by  a  different  way  from 
that  by  which  I  entered  it."  So  the  man  of  the  lodgings  accom- 
panied him  as  far  as  he  desired.  Then  he  bade  the  maiden  to 
go  on  before  him. 

"  '  And  to-day 

I  charge  you,  Enid,  more  especially, 

What  thing  soever  you  may  hear,  or  see, 

Or  fancy  (tho'  I  count  it  of  small  use 

To  charge  you),  that  you  speak  not  but  obey.'  " — Enid. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  Enid  observed  a  cloud  of 
dust  in  the  distance.  She  said  nothing,  but  by  pointing  with 
her  finger  attracted  Geraint's  attention. 

**  And  in  the  moment  after,  wild  Limours, 
Borne  on  a  black  horse,  like  a  thunder- cloud 
Whose  skirts  are  loosen' d  by  the  breaking  storm, 
Half  ridden  off  with  by  the  thing  he  rode. 
And  all  in  passion  uttering  a  dry  shriek, 
Dash'd  on  Geraint,  who  closed  with  him,  and  bore 
Down  by  the  length  of  lance  and  arm  beyond." — Enid. 

Limours  had  been  vanquished,  but  Geraint  had  not  escaped 
unharmed.  He  had  been  wounded  beneath  his  armor,  and, 
fainting  from  the  loss  of  blood,  fell  unconscious  to  the  ground. 
Piercing  and  loud  and  thrilling  was  the  cry  that  Enid  uttered. 


THE  EARL  DOORM.  265 

**  And  Enid  heard  the  clashing  of  his  fall, 
Suddenly  came,  and  at  his  side  all  pale 
Dismounting,  loosed  the  fastenings  of  his  arms. 
Then  after  all  was  done  that  hand  could  do. 
She  rested,  and  her  desolation  came 
Upon  her,  and  she  wept  beside  the  way/' — Enid. 

And  she  came  and  stood  over  him  where  he  had  fallen.  While 
Enid  stood  weeping  over  the  form  of  Geraint,  her  cries  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  fierce  Earl  Doorm,  who  happened  to  be 
journeying  that  way. 

The  Earl  Doorm. 

This  was  one  of  the  most  cruel  knights  in  the  entire  kingdom, 
a  fit  associate  for  the  wretched  Limours. 

*'  The  huge  Earl  Doorm, 
Broad-faced  with  under-fringe  of  russet  beard, 
Bound  on  a  foray,  rolling  eyes  of  prey, 
Came  riding  with  a  hundred  lances  up  ; 
But  ere  he  came,  like  one  that  hails  a  ship. 
Cried  out  with  a  big  voice,  '  What,  is  he  dead  ?' 
*  No,  no,  not  dead  !'  she  answered  in  all  haste. 
Then  said  Earl  Doorm  :   '  Well,  if  he  be  not  dead, 
Why  wail  you  for  him  thus?  you  seem  a  child. 
And  be  he  dead,  I  count  you  for  a  fool ; 
Your  wailing  will  not  quicken  him  :  dead  or  not, 
You  mar  a  comely  face  with  idiot  tears. 
Yet,  since  the  face  is  comely — some  of  you, 
Here,  take  him  up,  and  bear  him  to  our  hall : 
And  if  he  live,  we  will  have  him  of  our  band  ; 
And  if  he  die,  why  earth  has  earth  enough 
To  hide  him.     See  ye  take  the  charger  too, 
A  noble  one.'      He  spake,  and  past  away. 
But  left  two  brawny  spearmen,  who  advanced, 
Each  growling  like  a  dog." — Enid. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  castle,  Geraint  was  placed  upon  a  little 
couch  in  front  of  the  table  that  was  in  the  hall.  Then  they  all 
took  off  their  travelling-gear,  and  the  earl  besought  Enid  to  do 
the  same,  and  to  clothe  herself  in  other  garments.  '^I  will 
not,  by  Heaven,"  said  she.  "Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  **be  not 
so  sorrowful  for  this  matter."  '*  It  were  hard  to  persuade  me 
to  be  otherwise,"  said  she.      "  I  will  act  towards  thee  in  such 


266  THE  MABINOGEON. 

wise  that  thou  needest  not  be  sorrowful  whether  yonder  knight 
live  or  die.  Behold,  a  good  earldom,  together  with  myself,  will 
I  bestow  upon  thee;  be  therefore  happy  and  joyful,"  *' I  de- 
clare to  Heaven, ' '  said  she,  ' '  that  henceforth  I  shall  never  be 
joyful  while  I  live."      *'  Come,"  said  he,  '*and  eat." 

**  Here  the  huge  Earl  cried  out  upon  her  talk, 
As  all  but  empty  heart  and  weariness 
And  sickly  nothing  ;  suddenly  seized  on  her. 
And  bare  her  by  main  violence  to  the  board, 
And  thrust  the  dish  before  her,  crying  *  Eat.' 
*  No,  no,'  said  Enid,  vext,  '  I  will  not  eat, 
Till  yonder  man  upon  the  bier  arise, 
And  eat  with  me.'  " — Enid. 

Then  he  gave  her  a  box  on  the  ear.  Thereupon  she  raised  a 
loud  and  piercing  shriek,  and  her  lamentations  were  much 
greater  than  they  had  been  before ;  for  she  considered  in  her 
own  mind  that,  had  Geraint  been  alive,  he  durst  not  have  struck 
her  thus.  But  behold,  at  the  sound  of  her  cry  Geraint  revived 
from  his  swoon,  and  he  sat  up  on  the  bier. 

**  This  heard  Geraint,  and  grasping  at  his  sword, 
Made  but  a  single  bound,  and  with  a  sweep  of  it. 
Shore  thro'  the  swarthy  neck,  and  like  a  ball 
The  russet  bearded  head  roll'd  on  the  floor." — Enid. 

Then  all  left  the  board  and  fled  away.  And  this  was  not  so 
much  through  fear  of  the  living  as  through  the  dread  they  felt 
at  seeing  the  dead  man  rise  up  to  slay  them. 

And  Geraint  looked  upon  Enid,  and  he  was  grieved  for  two 
causes ;  one  was  to  see  that  Enid  had  lost  her  color  and  her 
wonted  aspect ;  and  the  other,  to  know  that  she  was  in  the  right. 
"  Lady,"  said  he,  ^'knowest  thou  where  our  horses  are  ?"  **  I 
know,  lord,  where  thy  horse  is,"  she  replied,  ^'but  I  know  not 
where  is  the  other.  Thy  horse  is  in  the  house  yonder. "  So  he 
went  to  the  house,  and  brought  forth  his  horse,  and  mounted 
him,  and  took  up  Enid,  and  placed  her  upon  the  horse  with  him. 

"  And  he  tum'd  his  face 
And  kiss'  d  her  climbing,  and  she  cast  her  arms 
About  him,  and  at  once  they  rode  away." — Enid. 


The  Earl  of  Doorm  and  Enid. 


THE  EARL  DOOBM.  267 

And  their  road  lay  between  two  hedges  ;  and  the  night  was 
gaining  on  the  day.  And  lo  !  they  saw  behind  them  the  shafts 
of  spears  betwixt  them  and  the  sky,  and  they  heard  the  tramp- 
ing of  horses,  and  the  noise  of  a  host  approaching.  "I  hear 
something  following  us,"  said  he,  ''  and  I  will  put  thee  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge."  And  thus  he  did.  And  thereupon, 
behold,  a  knight  pricked  towards  him,  and  couched  his  lance. 
When  Enid  saw  this,  she  cried  out,  saying,  "  O  chieftain,  who- 
ever thou  art,  what  renown  wilt  thou  gain  by  slaying  a  dead 
man?"  '*0  Heaven!"  said  he,  'Ms  it  Geraint?"  ''Yes,  in 
truth,"  said  she;  "and  who  art  thou?"  "I  am  Gwiffert 
Petit,"  said  he,  "thy  husband's  ally,  coming  to  thy  assistance, 
for  I  heard  that  thou  wast  in  trouble. 

**  My  lord  Geraint,  I  greet  you  with  all  love  ; 
I  took  you  for  a  bandit  knight  of  Doorm  ; 
And  fear  not,  Enid,  I  should  fall  upon  him, 
Who  love  you,  prince,  with  something  of  the  love 
Wherewith  we  love  the  Heaven  that  chastens  us." — Enid. 

Come  with  me  to  the  court  of  a  son-in-law  of  my  sister,  which 
is  near  here,  and^  thou  shalt  have  the  best  medical  assistance  in 
the  kingdom."  "I  will  do  so  gladly,"  said  Geraint.  And 
Enid  was  placed  upon  the  horse  of  one  of  Gwiffert' s  squires,  and 
they  went  forward  to  the  baron's  palace.  And  they  were  received 
there  with  gladness,  and  they  met  with  hospitality  and  attention. 
The  next  morning  they  went  to  seek  physicians  ;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  they  came,  and  they  attended  Geraint  until  he  was 
perfectly  well. 

**  Then,  when  Geraint  was  whole  again,  they  past 
With  Arthur  to  Caerleon  upon  Usk. 
There  the  great  queen  once  more  embraced  her  friend, 
And  clothed  her  in  apparel  like  the  day." — Enid. 

And  while  Geraint  was  under  medical  care,  Gwiffert  caused  his 
armor  to  be  repaired,  until  it  was  as  good  as  it  had  ever  been. 
And  they  remained  there  a  month  and  a  fortnight.  Then  they 
separated,  and  Geraint  went  towards  his  own  dominions,  and 
thenceforth  he  reigned  prosperously,  and  his  warlike  fame  and 
splendor  lasted  with  renown  and  honor  both  to  him  and  to  Enid, 
from  that  time  forward. 


268 


THE  MABINOQEON, 


**They  call'd  him  the  great  prince  and  man  of  men. 
But  Enid,  whom  her  ladies  loved  to  call 
Enid  the  Fair,  a  grateful  people  named 
Enid  the  Good  ;  and  in  their  halls  arose 
The  cry  of  children,  Enids  and  Geraints 
Of  times  to  be  ;  nor  did  he  doubt  he.  more 
But  rested  in  her  fealty,  till  he  crown' d 
A  happy  life." — Enid. 

Geraint  is  said  to  have  retained  his  love  for  knightood,  and 
finally  received  a  thrust  from  which  he  never  recovered. 

*  *  At  Longborth  was  Geraint  slain, 
A  valiant  warrior  from  the  woods  of  Doorm, 
Slaughtering  his  enemies  as  he  fell." — Triad  Hen. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
Pwyll  (Pool),   Prince  of  DyVed. 

Once  upon  a  time  Pwyll  was  at  Narberth,  his  chief  palace, 
where  a  feast  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  with  him  was  a 
great  host  of  men.  And  after  the  first  meal  Pwyll  arose  to  walk  j 
and  he  went  to  the  top  of  the  mound  that  was  above  the  palace, 
and  was  called  Gorsedd  Arberth.  '^Lord,"  said  one  of  the 
court,  'Mt  is  peculiar  to  the  mound  that  whosoever  sits  upon  it 
cannot  go  thence  without  either  receiving  wounds  or  blows,  or 
else  seeing  a  wonder. "  "I  fear  not  to  receive  wounds  or  blows, ' ' 
said  Pwyll ;  *'but  as  to  the  wonder,  gladly  would  I  see  it.  I 
will  therefore  go  and  sit  upon  the  mound." 

And  upon  the  mound  he  sat.  And  while  he  sat  there,  they 
saw  a  lady,  on  a  pure  white  horse  of  large  size,  with  a  gannent 
of  shining  gold  around  her,  coming  along  the  highway  that  led 
from  the  mound.  "  My  men,"  said  Pwyll,  **  is  there  any  among 
you  who  knows  yonder  lady?"  ''There  is  not,  lord,"  said 
they.  "  Go  one  of  you  and  meet  her,  that  we  may  know  who 
she  is. ' '  And  one  of  them  arose,  and  as  he  came  upon  the  road 
to  meet  her,  she  passed  by ;  and  he  followed  as  fast  as  he  could, 
being  on  foot,  and  the  greater  was  his  speed,  the  further  was  she 
from  him.  And  when  he  saw  that  it  profited  him  nothing  to 
follow  her,  he  returned  to  Pwyll,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Lord,  it  is 
idle  for  any  one  in  the  world  to  follow  her  on  foot. "  "  Verily, ' ' 
said  Pwyll,  ''go  unto  the  palace,  and  take  the  fleetest  horse  that 
thou  seest,  and  go  after  her. ' ' 

(269) 


2/0  THE  MABINOQEON. 

And  he  took  a  horse  and  went  forward.  And  he  came  to  an 
open,  level  plain,  and  put  spurs  to  his  horse ;  and  the  more  he 
urged  his  horse,  the  further  she  was  from  him.  And  he  returned 
to  the  place  where  Pwyll  was,  and  said,  "  Lord,  it  will  avail 
nothing  for  any  one  to  follow  yonder  lady.  I  know  of  no  horse 
in  these  realms  swifter  than  this,  and  it  availed  me  not  to  pursue 
her."  **  Of  a  truth,"  said  Pwyll,  '*  there  must  be  some  illusion 
here  ;  let  us  go  towards  the  palace. "  So  to  the  palace  they  went 
and  spent  the  day. 

And  the  next  day  they  amused  themselves  until  it  was  time  to 
go  to  meat.  And  when  meat  was  ended,  Pwyll  said,  '*  Where 
are  the  hosts  that  went  yesterday  to  the  top  of  the  mound  ?' ' 
'*  Behold,  lord,  we  are  here,"  said  they.  "Let  us  go,"  said 
he,  ''to  the  mound,  and  sit  there.  And  do  thou,"  said  he  to 
the  page  who  tended  his  horse,  ''saddle  my  horse  well,  and 
hasten  with  him  to  the  road,  and  bring  also  my  spurs  with  thee." 
And  the  youth  did  thus.  And  they  went  and  sat  upon  the 
mound  ;  and  ere  they  had  been  there  but  a  short  time  they 
beheld  the  lady  coming  by  the  same  road,  and  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  at  the  same  pace.  "  Young  man,"  said  Pwyll,  "  I  see 
the  lady  coming  ;  give  me  my  horse. ' '  And  before  he  had 
mounted  his  horse  she  passed  him.  And  he  turned  after  her  and 
followed  her.  And  he  let  his  horse  go  bounding  playfully,  and 
thought  that  he  should  soon  come  up  with  her.  But  he  came 
no  nearer  to  her  than  at  first.  Then  he  urged  his  horse  to  his 
utmost  speed,  yet  he  found  that  it  availed  not.  Then  said 
Pwyll,  "  O  maiden,  for  the  sake  of  him  whom  thou  best  lovest, 
stay  for  me."  "I  will  stay  gladly,"  said  she  ;  "and  it  were 
better  for  thy  horse  hadst  thou  asked  it  long  since."  So  the 
maiden  stopped  ;  and  she  threw  back  that  part  of  her  headdress 
which  covered  her  face.  Then  he  thought  that  the  beauty  of 
all  the  maidens  and  all  the  ladies  that  he  had  ever  seen  was  as 
nothing  compared  to  her  beauty.  "  Lady,"  he  said,  "  wilt  thou 
tell  me  aught  concerning  thy  purpose?"  "  I  will  tell  thee," 
said  she;  "  my  chief  quest  was  to  see  thee."  "Truly,"  said 
Pwyll,  "this  is  tome  the  most  pleasing  quest  on  which  thou 
couldst  have  come  ;  and  wilt  thou  tell  me  who  thou  art ?"  "I 
will  tell  thee,  lord,"  said  she.  "  I  am  Rhiannon,  the  daughter 
of  Heveydd,  and  they  sought  to  give  me  to  a  husband  against  my 


PWYLL,  PRINCE  OF  DYVED.  271 

will.  But  no  husband  would  I  have,  and  that  because  of  my  love 
for  thee ;  neither  will  I  yet  have  one,  unless  thou  reject  me  ; 
and  hither  have  I  come  to  hear  thy  answer."  ^'  By  Heaven," 
said  Pwyll,  '^  behold  this  is  my  answer.  If  I  might  choose 
among  all  the  ladies  and  damsels  in  the  world,  thee  would  I 
choose."  **  Verily,"  said  she,  *^  if  thou  art  thus  minded,  make 
a  pledge  to  me  ere  I  am  given  to  another."  ''The  sooner  I 
may  do  so,  the  more  pleasing  will  it  be  to  me,"  said  Pwyll; 
'*and  wheresoever  thou  wilt,  there  will  I  meet  with  thee."  '*  I 
will  that  thou  meet  me  this  day  twelvemonth  at  the  palace  of 
Heveydd."  ''  Gladly,"  said  he,  *'  will  I  keep  this  tryst."  So 
they  parted,  and  he  went  back  to  his  hosts,  and  to  them  of  his 
household.  And  whatsoever  questions  they  asked  him  respecting 
the  damsel,  he  always  turned  the  discourse  upon  other  matters. 

And  when  a  year  from  that  time  was  gone,  he  caused  a  hun- 
dred knights  to  equip  themselves,  and  to  go  with  him  to  the  palace 
of  Heveydd.  And  he  came  to  the  palace,  and  there  was  great 
joy  concerning  him,  with  much  concourse  of  people,  and  great 
rejoicing,  and  vast  preparations  for  his  coming.  And  the  whole 
court  was  placed  under  his  orders. 

And  the  hall  was  garnished,  and  they  went  to  meat,  and  thus 
did  they  sit :  Heveydd  was  on  one  side  of  Pwyll,  and  Rhiannon 
on  the  other;  and  all  the  rest  according  to  their  rank.  And 
they  ate  and  feasted,  and  talked  one  with  another.  And  at  the 
beginning  of  the  carousal,  after  the  meat,  there  entered  a  tall, 
auburn -haired  youth,  of  royal  bearing,  clothed  in  a  garment  of 
satin.  And  when  he  came  into  the  hall  he  saluted  Pwyll  and 
his  companions.  "  The  greeting  of  Heaven  be  unto  thee,"  said 
Pwyll;  ''come  thou  and  sit  down."  "Nay,"  said  he,  "a 
suitor  am  I,  and  I  will  do  my  errand."  "  Do  so,  willingly," 
said  Pwyll.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "my  errand  is  unto  thee,  and  it 
is  to  crave  a  boon  of  thee  that  I  come."  "What  boon  soever 
thou  mayest  ask  of  me,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  thou  shalt  have." 
"Ah!"  said  Rhiannon,  "wherefore  didst  thou  give  that 
answer?"  "Has  he  not  given  it  before  the  presence  of  these 
nobles?"  asked  the  youth.  "My  soul,"  said  Pwyll,  "what  is 
the  boon  thou  askest?"  "The  lady  whom  best  I  love  is  to 
be  thy  bride  this  night ;  I  come  to  ask  her  of  thee,  with  the 
feast  and  the  banquet  that  are  in  this  place. ' '      And  Pwyll  was 


272  THE  MABINOGEON. 

silent,  because  of  the  promise  which  he  had  given.  ''  Be  silent 
as  long  as  thou  wilt,"  said  Rhiannon  ;  ''never  did  man  make 
worse  use  of  his  wits  than  thou  hast  done."  ''  Lady,"  said  he, 
"  I  knew  not  who  he  was."  "  Behold,  this  is  the  man  to  whom 
they  would  have  given  me  against  my  will,"  said  she  ;  "and  he 
is  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  a  man  of  great  power  and  wealth,  and 
because  of  the  word  thou  hast  spoken,  bestow  me  upon  him,  lest 
shame  befall  thee."  ''Lady,"  said  he,  "I  understand  not  thy 
answer ;  never  can  I  do  as  thou  sayest. "  "  Bestow  me  upon 
him,"  said  she,  "and  I  will  cause  that  I  shall  never  be  his." 
"  By  what  means  will  that  be?"  asked  Pwyll.  Then  she  told 
him  the  thought  that  was  in  her  mind.  And  they  talked  long 
together.  Then  Gawl  said,  "Lord,  it  is  meet  that  I  have  an 
answer  to  my  request."  "As  much  of  that  thou  hast  asked  as 
it  is  in  my  power  to  give,  thou  shalthave,"  replied  Pwyll.  "  My 
soul,"  said  Rhiannon  unto  Gawl,  "as  for  the  feast  and  the  ban- 
quet that  are  here,  I  have  bestowed  them  upon  the  men  of  Dyved, 
and  the  household  and  the  warriors  that  are  with  us.  These  can 
I  not  suffer  to  be  given  to  any.  In  a  year  from  to-night,  a  ban- 
quet shall  be  prepared  for  thee  in  this  palace,  that  I  may  become 
thy  bride. ' ' 

So  Gawl  went  forth  to  his  possessions,  and  Pwyll  went  also 
back  to  Dyved.  And  they  both  spent  that  year  until  it  was 
the  time  for  the  feast  at  the  palace  of  Heveydd.  Then  Gawl, 
the  son  of  Clud,  set  out  to  the  feast  that  was  prepared  for  him ; 
and  he  came  to  the  palace,  and  was  received  there  with  rejoicing. 
Pwyll,  also,  the  chief  of  Dyved,  came  to  the  orchard  with  a 
hundred  knights,  as  Rhiannon  had  commanded  him.  And  Pwyll 
was  clad  in  coarse  and  ragged  garments,  and  wore  large,  clumsy 
old  shoes  upon  his  feet.  And  when  he  knew  that  the  carousal 
after  the  meat  had  begun,  he  went  toward  the  hall ;  and  when  he 
came  into  the  hall  he  saluted  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  and  his 
company,  both  men  and  women.  "  Heaven  prosper  thee,"  said 
Gawl,  "and  friendly  greeting  be  unto  thee!"  "Lord,"  said 
he,  ' '  may  Heaven  reward  thee  !  I  have  an  errand  unto  thee. ' ' 
"Welcome  be  thine  errand,  and  if  thou  ask  of  me  that  which  is 
right,  thou  shalt  have  it  gladly."  "  It  is  fitting,"  answered  he  ; 
"  I  crave  but  from  want,  and  the  boon  I  ask  is  to  have  this  small 
bag  that  thou  seest  filled  with  meat. "     "A  request  within  reason 


PWYLL,  PRINCE  OF  BYVED.  273 

is  this,"  said  he,  ''and  gladly  shalt  thou  have  it.  Bring  him 
food."  A  great  number  of  attendants  arose  and  began  to  fill 
the  bag ;  but  for  all  they  put  into  it,  it  was  no  fuller  than  at  first. 
"  My  soul,"  said  Gawl,  '''  will  thy  l)ag  ever  be  full  ?"  ''It  will 
not,  I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  for  all  that  may  be  put  into 
-it,  unless  one  possessed  of  lands,  and  domains,  and  treasure, 
shall  arise  and  tread  down  with  both  his  feet  the  food  that  is 
within  the  bag,  and  shall  say,  '  Enough  has  been  put  therein. '  ' ' 
Then  said  Rhiannon  unto  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  "Rise  up 
quickly."  "  I  will  willingly  arise,"  said  he.  So  he  rose  up, 
and  put  his  two  feet  into  the  bag.  And  Pwyll  turned  up  the  sides 
of  the  bag,  so  that  Gawl  was  over  his  head  in  it.  And  he  shut 
it  up  quickly,  and  slipped  a  knot  upon  the  thongs,  and  blew  his 
horn.  And  thereupon,  behold,  his  knights  came  down  upon  the 
palace.  And  they  seized  all  the  host  that  had  come  with  Gawl, 
and  cast  them  into  his  own  prison.  And  Pwyll  threw  off  his 
rags,  and  his  old  shoes,  and  his  tattered  array.  And  as  they 
came  in,  every  one  of  Pwyll' s  knights  struck  a  blow  upon  the 
bag,  and  asked,  "What  is  here?"  "A  badger,"  said  they. 
And  in  this  manner  they  played,  each  of  them  striking  the  bag, 
either  with  his  foot  or  with  a  staff.  And  thus  played  they  with 
the  bag.  And  then  was  the  game  of  Badger  in  the  Bag  first 
played. 

"  Lord,"  said  the  man  in  the  bag,  "  if  thou  wouldst  but  hear 
me,  I  merit  not  to  be  slain  in  a  bag."  Said  Heveydd,  "  Lord, 
he  speaks  truth ;  it  were  fitting  that  thou  listen  to  him,  for  he 
deserves  not  this."  "Verily,"  said  Pwyll,  "  I  will  do  thy  coun- 
sel concerning  him."  "  Behold,  this  is  my  counsel  then,"  said 
Rhiannon.  "  Thou  art  now  in  a  position  in  which  it  behooves 
thee  to  satisfy  suitors  and  minstrels.  Let  him  give  unto  them  in 
thy  stead,  and  take  a  pledge  from  him  that  he  will  never  seek  to 
revenge  that  which  has  been  done  to  him.  And  this  will  be  pun- 
ishment enough."  "  I  will  do  this  gladly,"  said  the  man  in  the 
bag.  "And  gladly  will  I  accept  it,"  said  Pwyll,"  since  it  is 
the  counsel  of  Heveydd  and  Rhiannon.  Seek  thyself  sureties." 
"We  will  be  for  him,"  said  Heveydd,  "  until  his  men  be  free 
to  answer  for  him."  And  upon  this  he  was  let  out  of  the  bag, 
and  his  liegemen  were  liberated.  "Verily,  lord,"  said  Gawl, 
"I  am  greatly  hurt,  and  I  have  many  bruises.     With  thy  leave 


2/4  THE  MABINOGEON. 

I  will  go  forth.  I  will  leave  nobles  in  my  stead  to  answer  for 
me  in  all  that  thou  shalt  require."  *^  Willingly,"  said  Pwyll, 
^'  mayest  thou  do  thus."     So  Gawl  went  to  his  own  possessions. 

And  the  hall  was  set  in  order  for  Pwyll  and  the  men  of  his 
host,  and  for  them  also  of  the  palace,  and  they  went  to  the 
tables  and  sat  down.  And  as  they  had  sat  that  time  twelve- 
month, so  sat  they  that  night.  And  they  ate  and  feasted,  and 
spent  the  night  in  mirth  and  tranquillity.  And  the  time  came 
that  they  should  sleep,  and  Pwyll  and  Rhiannon  went  to  their 
chamber. 

And  next  morning  at  break  of  day,  **  My  lord,"  said  Rhian- 
non, '^  arise  and  begin  to  give  thy  gifts  unto  the  minstrels. 
Refuse  no  one  to-day  that  may  claim  thy  bounty."  ''Thus 
shall  it  be  gladly,"  said  Pwyll,  ''both  to-day  and  everyday 
while  the  feast  shall  last. ' '  So  Pwyll  arose,  and  he  caused  silence 
to  be  proclaimed,  and  desired  all  the  suitors  and  minstrels  to 
show  and  to  point  out  what  gifts  they  desired.  And  this  being 
done,  the  feast  went  on,  and  he  denied  no  one  while  it  lasted. 
And  when  the  feast  was  ended,  Pwyll  said  unto  Heveydd,  "  My 
lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  set  out  for  Dyved  to-morrow." 
"  Certainly,"  said  Hedevyd  ;  "may  Heaven  prosper  thee  !  Fix 
also  a  time  when  Rhiannon  shall  follow  thee. "  "By  Heaven/ ' 
said  Pwyll,  "  we  will  go  hence  together."  "  Wiliest  thou  this, 
lord?"  said  Heveydd.      "Yes,  lord,"  answered  Pwyll. 

And  the  next  day  they  set  forward  towards  Dyved,  and  jour- 
neyed to  the  palace  of  Narberth^  where  a  feast  was  made  ready 
for  them.  And  there  came  to  them  great  numbers  of  the  chief 
men  and  the  most  noble  ladies  of  the  land,  and  of  these  there 
were  none  to  whom  Rhiannon  did  not  give  some  rich  gift,  either 
a-  bracelet,  or  a  ring,  or  a  precious  stone.  And  they  ruled  the 
land  prosperously  that  year  and  the  next. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Bran'wen,  the  Daughter  of  Llyr  (Lhier). 

Bendigeid  Vran,  the  son  of  Llyr,  was  the  crowned  king  of 
this  island,  and  he  was  exalted  from  the  crown  of  London.  And 
one  afternoon  he  was  at  Harlech,  in  Ardudwy,  at  his  court ;  and 
he  sat  upon  the  rock  of  Harlech,  looking  over  the  sea.  And 
with  him  were  his  brother,  Manawyddan,  the  son  of  Llyr,  and 
his  brothers  by  the  mother's  side,  Nissyen  and  Evnissyen,  and 
many  nobles  likewise,  as  was  fitting  to  see  around  a  king.  His 
two  brothers  by  the  mother's  side  were  the  sons  of  Euroswydd, 
and  one  of  these  youths  was  a  good  youth,  and  of  gentle  nature, 
and  would  make  peace  between  his  kindred,  and  cause  his  family 
to  be  friends  when  their  wrath  was  at  the  highest,  and  this  one 
was  Nissyen  ;  but  the  other  would  cause  strife  between  his  two 
brothers  when  they  were  most  at  peace.  And  as  they  sat  thus, 
they  beheld  thirteen  ships  coming  from  the  south  of  Ireland,  and 
making  towards  them  ;  and  they  came  with  a  swift  motion,  the 
wind  being  behind  them;  and  they  neared  them  rapidly.  **I 
see  ships  afar,"  said  the  king,  ''coming  swiftly  towards  the  land. 
Command  the  men  of  the  court  that  they  equip  themselves,  and 
go  and  learn  their  intent."  So  the  men  equipped  themselves, 
and  went  down  towards  them.  And  when  they  saw  the  ships 
near,  certain  were  they  that  they  had  never  seen  ships  better 
furnished.  Beautiful  flags  of  satin  were  upon  them.  And,  be- 
hold, one  of  the  ships  outstripped  the  others,  and  they  saw  a 

(275  ) 


2/6  THE  MABINOOEON. 

shield  lifted  up  above  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  the  point  of  the 
shield  was  upwards,  in  token  of  peace.  And  the  men  drew  near, 
that  they  might  hold  converse.  Then  they  put  out  boats,  and 
came  toward  the  land.  And  they  saluted  the  king.  Now  the 
king  could  hear  them  from  the  place  where  he  was  upon  the  rock 
above  their  heads.  **  Heaven  prosper  you,"  said  he,  *'and  be 
ye  welcome  !  To  whom  do  these  ships  belong,  and  who  is  the 
chief  amongst  you?"  **Lord,"  said  they,  ''Matholch,  king 
of  Ireland,  is  here,  and  these  ships  belong  to  him."  "  Where- 
fore comes  he?"  asked  the  king,  **and  will  he  come  to  the 
land?"  7  He  is  a  suitor  unto  thee,  lord,"  said  they,  "and  he 
will  not  land  unless  he  have  his  boon."  ''And  what  may  that 
be?"  inquired  the  king.  ''He  desires  to  ally  himself,  lord, 
with  thee,"  said  they,  "and  he  comes  to  ask  Branwen,  the 
daughter  of  Llyr,  that,  if  it  seem  well  to  thee,  the  Island  of 
the  Mighty^  may  be  leagued  with  Ireland,  and  both  become 
more  powerful. "  "Verily,"  said  he,  "  let  him  come  to  land, 
and  we  will  take  counsel  thereupon."  And  this  answer  was 
brought  to  Matholch.  "I  will  go  willingly,"  said  he.  So  he 
landed,  and  they  received  him  joyfully  ;  and  great  was  the  throng 
in  the  palace  that  night  between  his  hosts  and  those  of  the  court ; 
and  next  day  they  took  counsel,  and  they  resolved  to  bestow 
Branwen  upon  Matholch.  Now  she  was  one  of  the  three  chief 
ladies  of  this  island,  and  she  was  the  fairest  damsel  in  the  world. 
And  they  fixed  upon  Aberfraw  as  the  place  where  she  should 
become  his  bride.  And  they  went  thence,  and  towards  Aber- 
fraw the  hosts  proceeded,  Matholch  and  his  host  in  their  ships, 
Bendigeid  Vran  and  his  host  by  land,  until  they  came  to  Aber- 
fraw. And  at  Aberfraw  they  began  the  feast,  and  sat  down. 
And  thus  sat  they :  the  king  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  and 
Manawyddan,  the  son  of  Llyr,  on  one  side,  and  Matholch  on 
the  other  side,  and  Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  beside  him. 
And  they  were  not  within  a  house,  but  under  tents.  No  house 
could  ever  contain  Bendigeid  Vran.  And  they  began  the  ban- 
quet, and  caroused  and  discoursed.  And  when  it  was  more 
pleasing  to  them  to  sleep  than  to  carouse,  they  went  to  rest,  and 
Branwen  became  Matholch' s  bride. 

1  The  Island  of  the    Mighty  is  one  of  the   many  names  bestowed   upon 
Britain  by  the  Welsh. 


BBANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.  277 

And  next  day  they  arose,  and  all  they  of  the  court,  and  the 
officers  began  to  equip,  and  to  range  the  horses  and  the  attend- 
ants, and  they  ranged  them  in  order  as  far  as  the  sea. 

And,  behold,  one  day  Evnissyen,  the  quarrelsome  man,  of 
whom  it  is  spoken  above,  came  by  chance  into  the  place  where 
the  horses  of  Matholch  were,  and  asked  whose  horses  they  might 
be.  *'They  are  the  horses  of  Matholch,  king  of  Ireland,  who 
is  married  to  Bran  wen,  thy  sister ;  his  horses  are  they."  "  And 
is  it  thus  they  have  done  with  a  maiden  such  as  she,  and  more- 
over my  sister,  bestowing  her  without  my  consent  ?  They  could 
have  offered  no  greater  insult  to  me  than  this,"  said  he.  And 
thereupon  he  rushed  under  the  horses,  and  cut  off  their  lips  at 
the  teeth,  and  their  ears  close  to  their  heads,  and  their  tails 
close  to  their  backs ;  and  he  disfigured  the  horses,  and  rendered 
them  useless. 

And  they  came  with  these  tidings  unto  Matholch,  saying  that 
the  horses  were  disfigured  and  injured,  so  that  not  one  of  them 
could  ever  be  of  any  use  again.  '^Verily,  lord,"  said  one,  *Mt 
was  an  insult  unto  thee,  and  as  such  was  it  meant."  ''Of  a 
truth,  it  is  a  marvel  to  me  that,  if  they  desire  to  insult  me,  they 
should  have  given  me  a  maiden  of  such  high  rank,  and  so  much 
beloved  of  her  kindred,  as  they  have  done."  *'Lord,"  said 
another,  "  thou  seest  that  thus  it  is,  and  there  is  nothing  for  thee 
to  do  but  to  go  to  thy  ships."  And  thereupon  towards  his  ships 
he  set  out. 

And  tidings  came  to  Bendigeid  Vran  that  Matholch  was  quit- 
ting the  court  without  asking  leave,  and  messengers  were  sent  to 
inquire  of  him  wherefore  he  did  so.  And  the  messengers  that 
went  were  Iddic,  the  son  of  Anarawd,  and  Heveyd  Hir.  And 
these  overtook  him,  and  asked  of  him  what  he  designed  to  do, 
and  wherefore  he  went  forth.  ''Of  a  truth,"  said  he,  "  if  I 
had  known,  I  had  not  come  hither.  I  have  been  altogether  in- 
sulted ;  no  one  had  ever  worse  treatment  than  I  have  had  here. ' ' 
"Truly,  lord,  it  was  not  the  will  of  any  that  are  of  the  court," 
said  they,  "  nor  of  any  that  are  of  the  council,  that  thou  shouldst 
have  received  this  insult ;  and  as  thou  hast  been  insulted,  the 
dishonor  is  greater  unto  Bendigeid  Vran  than  unto  thee." 
"Verily,"  said  he,  "I  think  so.  Nevertheless,  he  cannot  re- 
call the  insult. ' '     These  men  returned  with  that  answer  to  the 


2/8  THE  MABINOGEOK 

place  where  Bendigeid  Vran  was,  and  they  told  him  what  reply 
Matholch  had  given  them.  ''Truly,"  said  he,  ''there  are  no 
means  by  which  we  may  prevent  his  going  away  at  enmity  with 
us  that  we  will  not  take."  "Well,  lord,"  said  they,  "send 
after  him  another  embassy."  "  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "  Arise, 
Manawyddan,  son  of  Llyr,  and  Heveyd  Hir,  and  go  after  him, 
and  tell  him  that  he  shall  have  a  sound  horse  for  every  one  that 
has  been  injured.  And  beside  that,  as  an  atonement  for  the  in- 
sult, he  shall  have  a  staff  of  silver  as  large  and  as  tall  as  himself, 
and  a  plate  of  gold  of  the  breadth  of  his  face.  And  show  unto 
him  who  it  was  that  did  this,  and  that  it  was  done  against  my 
will ;  but  that  he  who  did  it  is  my  brother,  and  therefore  it 
would  be  hard  for  me  to  put  him  to  death.  And  let  him  come 
and  meet  me,"  said  he,  "and  we  will  make  peace  in  any  way 
he  may  desire. ' ' 

The  embassy  went  after  Mathwlch,  and  told  him  all  these  say- 
ings in  a  friendly  manner ;  and  he  listened  thereunto.  "  Men," 
said  he,  "  I  will  take  counsel."  So  to  the  council  he  went. 
And  in  the  council  they  considered  that,  if  they  should  refuse 
this,  they  were  likely  to  have  more  shame  rather  than  to  obtain 
so  great  an  atonement.  They  resolved,  therefore,  to  accept  it, 
and  they  returned  to  the  court  in  peace. 

Then  the  pavilions  and  the  tents  were  set  in  order,  after  the 
fashion  of  a  hall ;  and  they  went  to  meat,  and  as  they  had  sat  at 
the  beginning  of  the  feast  so  sat  they  there.  And  Matholch  and 
Bendigeid  Vran  began  to  discourse  ;  and,  behold,  it  seemed  to 
Bendigeid  Vran,  while  they  talked,  that  Matholch  was  not  so 
cheerful  as  he  had  been  before.  And  he  thought  that  the  chief- 
tain might  be  sad  because  of  the  smallness  of  the  atonement 
which  he  had  for  the  wrong  that  had  been  done  him.  "O 
man,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "thou  dost  not  discourse  to-night 
so  cheerfully  as  thou  wast  wont.  And  if  it  be  because  of  the 
smallness  of  the  atonement,  thou  shalt  add  thereunto  whatsoever 
thou  mayest  choose,  and  to-morrow  I  will  pay  thee  for  the 
horses. "  "  Lord, ' '  said  he,  ' '  Heaven  reward  thee  ! "  "  And 
I  will  enhance  the  atonement,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "for  I 
will  give  unto  thee  a  caldron,  the  property  of  which  is,  that  if 
one  of  thy  men  be  slain  to-day,  and  be  cast  therein,  to-morrow 
he  will  be  as  well  as  ever  he  was  at  the  best,  except  that  he  will 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.  279 

not  regain  his  speech."  And  thereupon  he  gave  him  great 
thanks,  and  very  joyful  was  he  for  that  cause. 

That  night  they  continued  to  discourse  as  much  as  they  would, 
and  had  minstrelsy  and  carousing  ;  and  when  it  was  more  pleasant 
to  them  to  sleep  than  to  sit  longer,  they  went  to  rest.  And 
thus  was  the  banquet  carried  on  with  joyousness ;  and  when  it 
was  finished,  Matholch  journeyed  towards  Ireland,  and  Bran  wen 
with  him ;  and  they  went  from  Aber  Menei  with  thirteen  ships, 
and  came  to  Ireland.  And  in  Ireland  was  there  great  joy  be- 
cause of  their  coming.  And  not  one  great  man  nor  noble  lady 
visited  Branwen  unto  whom  she  gave  not  either  a  clasp  or  a  ring, 
or  a  royal  jewel  to  keep,  such  as  it  was  honorable  to  be  seen 
departing  with.  And  in  these  things  she  spent  that  year  in 
much  renown,  and  she  passed  her  time  pleasantly,  enjoying 
honor  and  friendship.  And  in  due  time  a  son  was  born  unto 
her,  and  the  name  that  they  gave  him  was  Gwern,  the  son  of 
Matholch,  and  they  put  the  boy  out  to  be  nursed  in  a  place  where 
were  the  best  men  of  Ireland. 

And  behold,  in  the  second  year  a  tumult  arose  in  Ireland,  on 
account  of  the  insult  which  Matholch  had  received  in  Wales, 
and  the  payment  made  him  for  his  horses.  And  his  foster- 
brothers,  and  such  as  were  nearest  to  him,  blamed  him  openly 
for  that  matter.  And  he  might  have  no  peace  by  reason  of  the 
tumult,  until  they  should  revenge  upon  him  this  disgrace.  And 
the  vengeance  which  they  took  was  to  drive  away  Branwen  from 
the  same  chamber  with  him,  and  to  make  her  cook  for  the  court ; 
and  they  caused  the  butcher,  after  he  had  cut  up  the  meat,  to 
come  to  her  and  give  her  every  day  a  blow  on  the  ear ;  and  such 
they  made  her  punishment. 

*'  Verily,  lord,"  said  his  men  to  Matholch,  ''  forbid  now  the 
ships  and  the  ferry-boats,  and  the  coracles,  that  they  go  not  into 
Wales,  and  such  as  come  over  from  Wales  hither,  imprison  them, 
that  they  go  not  back  for  this  thing  to  be  known  there. ' '  And 
he  did  so ;  and  it  was  thus  for  no  less  than  three  years. 

And  Branwen  reared  a  starling  in  the  cover  of  the  kneading- 
trough,  and  she  taught  it  to  speak,  and  she  taught  the  bird  what 
manner  of  man  her  brother  was.  And  she  wrote  a  letter  of  her 
woes,  and  the  despite  with  w^hich  she  was  treated,  and  she  bound 
the  letter  to  the  root  of  the  bird's  wing,  and  sent  it  towards 


280  THE  MABINOGEON. 

Wales.  And  the  bird  came  to  that  island  ;  and  one  day  it  found 
Bendigeid  Vran  at  Caer  Seiont  in  Arvon,  conferring  there,  and 
it  alighted  upon  his  shoulder  and  ruffled  its  feathers,  so  that  the 
letter  was  seen,  and  they  knew  that  the  bird  had  been  reared  in 
a  domestic  manner. 

Then  Bendigeid  Vran  took  the  letter  and  looked  upon  it. 
And  when  he  had  read  the  letter,  he  grieved  exceedingly  at  the 
tidings  of  Branwen's  woes.  And  immediately  he  began  send- 
ing messengers  to  summon  the  island  together.  And  he  caused 
sevenscore  and  four  of  his  chief  men  to  come  unto  him,  and  he 
complained  to  them  of  the  grief  that  his  sister  endured.  So  they 
took  counsel.  And  in  the  counsel  they  resolved  to  go  to  Ire- 
land, and  to  leave  seven  men  as  princes  at  home,  and  Caradoc,' 
the  son  of  Bran,  as  the  chief  of  them. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  with  the  host  of  which  we  spoke,  sailed 
towards  Ireland  ;  and  it  was  not  far  across  the  sea,  and  he  came 
to  shoal  water.  Now  the  swineherds  of  Matholch  were  upon 
the  sea-shore,  and  they  came  to  Matholch.  *'  Lord,"  said  they, 
''greeting  be  unto  thee."  ''Heaven  protect  you!"  said  he ; 
"  have  you  any  news?"  "Lord,"  said  they,  "  we  have  mar- 
vellous news.  A  wood  have  we  seen  upon  the  sea,  in  a  place 
where  we  never  yet  saw  a  single  tree."  "This  is  indeed  a  mar- 
vel," said  he  ;  "saw  you  aught  else?"  "  We  saw,  lord,"  said 
they,  "a  vast  mountain,  beside  the  wood,  which  moved,  and 
there  was  a  lofty  ridge  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  a  lake 
on  each  side  of  the  ridge.  And  the  wood  and  the  mountain, 
and  all  these  things,  moved."  "Verily,"  said  he,  "there  is 
none  who  can  know  aught  concerning  this  unless  it  be  Branwen. ' ' 

Messengers  then  went  unto  Branwen.  "Lady,"  said  they, 
"  what  thinkest  thou  that  this  is  ?"  "  The  men  of  the  Island 
of  the  Mighty,  who  have  come  hither  on  hearing  of  my  ill-treat- 
ment and  of  my  woes."  "  What  is  the  forest  that  is  seen  upon 
the  sea?"  asked  they.  "  The  yards  and  the  masts  of  ships," 
she  answered.  "Alas!"  said  they;  "what  is  the  mountain 
that  is  seen  by  the  side  of  the  ships?"  "  Bendigeid  Vran,  my 
brother,"  she  replied,  "coming  to  shoal  water,  and  he  is  wading 
to  the  land."  "What  is  the  lofty  ridge,  with  the  lake  on  each 
side  thereof?"      "  On  looking  towards  this  island  he  is  wroth, 

1  Caractacus. 


THE  DA  UGHTER  OF  LLYR.  28 1 

and  his  two  eyes  on  each  side  of  his  nose  are  the  two  lakes  on 
each  side  of  the  ridge. ' ' 

The  warriors  and  chief  men  of  Ireland  were  brought  together 
in  haste,  and  they  took  counsel.  "  Lord,"  said  the  neighbors 
unto  Matholch,  ''there  is  no  other  counsel  than  this  alone. 
Thou  shalt  give  the  kingdom  to  Gwern,  the  son  of  Bran  wen  his 
sister,  as  a  compensation  for  the  wrong  and  despite  that  has 
been  done  unto  Branwen.  And  he  will  make  peace  with  thee. ' ' 
I  And  in  the  council  it  was  resolved  that  this  message  should  be 
sent  to  Bendigeid  Vran,  lest  the  country  should  be  destroyed. 
And  this  peace  was  made.  And  Matholch  caused  a  great  house 
to  be  built  for  Bendigeid  Vran  and  his  host.  Thereupon  came 
the  hosts  into  the  house.  The  men  of  the  island  of  Ireland 
entered  the  house  on  the  one  side,  and  the  men  of  the  Island  of 
the  Mighty  on  the  other.  And  as  soon  as  they  had  sat  down, 
there  was  concord  between  them  ;  and  the  sovereignty  was  con- 
ferred upon  the  boy.  When  the  peace  was  concluded,  Bendigeid 
Vran  called  the  boy  unto  him,  and  from  Bendigeid  Vran  the  boy 
went  unto  Manawyddan,  and  he  was  beloved  by  all  that  beheld 
him.  And  from  Manawyddan  the  boy  was  called  by  Nissyen, 
the  son  of  Euroswydd,  and  the  boy  went  unto  him  lovingly. 
''  Wherefore,"  said  Evnissyen,  ''  comes  not  my  nephew,  the  son 
of  my  sister,  unto  me  ?  Though  he  were  not  king  of  Ireland,  yet 
willingly  would  I  fondle  the  boy."  "Cheerfully  let  him  go  to 
thee, ' '  said  Bendigeid  Vran  ;  and  the  boy  went  unto  him  cheer- 
fully. ''By  my  confession  to  Heaven,"  said  Evnissyen  in  his 
heart,  "  unthought  of  is  the  slaughter  that  I  will  this  instant 
commit." 

Then  he  arose  and  took  up  the  boy,  and  before  any  one  in  the 
house  could  seize  hold  of  him  he  thrust  the  boy  headlong  into  the 
blazing  fire.  And  when  Branwen  saw  her  son  burning  in  the  fire, 
she  strove  to  leap  into  the  fire  also,  from  the  place  where  she 
sat  between  her  two  brothers.  But  Bendigeid  Vran  grasped  her 
with  one  hand  and  his  shield  with  the  other.  Then  they  all 
hurried  about  the  house,  and  never  was  there  made  so  great  a 
tumult  by  any  host  in  one  house  as  was  made  by  them,  as  each 
man  armed  himself.  And  while  they  all  sought  their  arms,  Ben- 
digeid Vran  supported  Branwen  between  his  shield  and  his 
shoulder.     And  they  fought. 


282  THE  MABINOGEON. 

Then  the  Irish  kindled  a  fire  under  the  caldron  of  renova- 
tion, and  they  cast  the  dead  bodies  into  the  caldron  until 
it  was  full ;  and  the  next  day  they  came  forth  fighting  men, 
as  good  as  before,  except  that  they  were  not  able  to  speak. 
Then  when  Evnissyen  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  the  men  of  the 
Island  of  the  Mighty  nowhere  resuscitated,  he  said  in  his  heart, 
**  Alas  !  woe  is  me,  that  I  should  have  been  the  cause  of  bring- 
ing the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  into  so  great  a  strait. 
Evil  betide  me  if  I  find  not  a  deliverance  therefrom."  And  he 
cast  himself  among  the  dead  bodies  of  the  Irish ;  and  two 
unshod  Irishmen  came  to  him,  and,  taking  him  to  be  one  of  the 
Irish,  flung  him  into  the  caldron.  And  he  stretched  himself  out 
in  the  caldron,  so  that  he  rent  the  caldron  into  four  pieces,  and 
burst  his  own  heart  also. 

In  consequence  of  this,  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty 
obtained  such  success  as  they  had ;  but  they  were  not  victorious, 
for  only  seven  men  of  them  all  escaped,  and  Bendigeid  Vran 
himself  was  wounded  in  the  foot  with  a  poisoned  dart.  Now 
the  men  that  escaped  were  Pryderi,  Manawyddan,  Taliesin,  and 
four  others. 

And  Bendigeid  Vran  commanded  them  that  they  should  cut 
off  his  head  ''And  take  you  my  head,"  said  he,  ''and  bear 
it  even  unto  the  White  Mount  in  London,  and  bury  it  there  with 
the  face  towards  France.  And  so  long  as  it  lies  there,  no  enemy 
shall  ever  land  on  the  island."  So  they  cut  off  his  head,  and 
these  seven  went  forward  therewith.  And  Branwen  was  the 
eighth  with  them.  And  they  came  to  land  on  Aber  Alaw, 
and  they  sat  down  to  rest.  And  Branwen  looked  towards  Ire- 
land, and  towards  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  to  see  if  she  could 
descry  them.  "Alas  !"  said  she,  "  woe  is  me  that  I  was  ever 
born  ;  two  islands  have  been  destroyed  because  of  me. ' '  Then 
she  uttered  a  groan,  and  there  broke  her  heart.  And  they  made 
her  a  four-sided  grave,  and  buried  her  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Alaw. 

Then  the  seven  men  journeyed  forward,  bearing  the  head  with 
them ;  and  as  they  went,  behold  there  met  them  a  multitude  of 
men  and  women.  "Have  you  any  tidings?"  asked  Mana- 
wyddan. "  We  have  none,"  said  they,  "save  that  Caswallawn, 
the  son  of  Beli,  has  conquered  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  and  is 


BBANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.  283 

crowned  king  in  London."  ''What  has  become,"  said  they, 
**  of  Caradoc,  the  son  of  Bran,  and  the  seven  men  who  were  left 
with  him  in  this  island?"  "  Caswallawn  came  upon  them,  and 
slew  six  of  the  men,  and  Caradoc's  heart  broke  for  grief  thereof." 
And  the  seven  men  journeyed  on  towards  London,  and  they 
buried  the  head  in  the  White  Mount,  as  Bendigeid  Vran  had 
directed  them.^ 

*  There  is  a  Triad  upon  the  story  of  the  head  buried  under  the  White 
Tower  of  London,  as  a  charm  against  invasion.  Arthur,  it  seems,  proudly 
disinterred  the  head,  preferring  to  hold  the  island  by  his  own  strength  alone. 


CHAPTER  X. 


M  a-na-wy  dd'an . 


PwYLL  and  Rhiannon  had  a  son, 
whom  they  named  Pryderi.  And 
when  he  was  grown  up,  Pwyll,  his 
father,  died.  And  Pryderi  married 
Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Gwynn 
Gloy. 

Now  Manawyddan  returned  from 
the  war  in  Ireland,  and  he  found 
that  his  cousin  had  seized  all  his 
possessions,  and  much  grief  and 
heaviness  came  upon  him.  ' '  Alas  ! 
woe  is  me  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  * '  there 
is  none  save  myself  without  a  home 
and  a  resting-place."  *'Lord," 
said  Pryderi,  "  be  not  so  sorrowful. 
Thy  cousin  is  king  of  the  Island 
of  the  Mighty,  and  though  he  has 
done  thee  wrong,  thou  hast  never 
been  a  claimant  of  land  or  posses- 
sions." **Yea,"  answered  he, 
''but  although  this  man  is  my 
cousin,  it  grieveth  me  to  see  any 
one  in  the  place  of  my  brother, 
Bendigeid  Vran  ;  neither  can  I  be 
happy  in  the  same  dwelling  with  him."  "Wilt  thou  follow 
the  counsel  of  another?"  said  Pryderi.  "I  stand  in  need  of 
counsel,"  he  answered;  "and  what  may  that  counsel  be?" 
"Seven  cantrevs  belong  unto  me,"  said  Pryderi,  "wherein 
Rhiannon,  my  mother  dwells.  I  will  bestow  her  upon  thee,  and 
the  seven  cantrevs  with  her  ;  and  though  thou  hadst  no  posses- 
sions but  those  cantrevs  only,  thou  couldst  not  have  any  fairer 
(  284 ) 


MANAWYDDAN.  285 

than  they.  Do  thou  and  Rhiannon  enjoy  them,  and  if  thou 
desire  any  possessions  thou  wilt  not  despise  these."  *'  I  do  not, 
chieftain,"  said  he.  '*  Heaven  reward  thee  for  thy  friendship  ! 
I  will  go  with  thee  to  seek  Rhiannon,  and  to  look  at  thy  posses- 
sions." ''Thou  wilt  do  well,"  he  answered;  "and  I  believe 
that  thou  didst  never  hear  a  lady  discourse  better  than  she,  and 
when  she  was  in  her  prime,  none  was  ever  fairer.  Even  now 
her  aspect  is  not  uncomely. ' ' 

They  set  forth,  and,  however  long  the  journey,  they  came  at 
last  to  Dyved  ;  and  a  feast  was  prepared  for  them  by  Rhiannon 
and  Kicva.  Then  began  Manawyddan  and  Rhiannon  to  sit 
and  to  talk  together  ;  and  his  mind  and  his  thoughts  became 
warmed  towards  her,  and  he  thought  in  his  heart  he  had  never 
beheld  any  lady  more  fulfilled  of  grace  and  beauty  than  she. 
'' Pryderi,"  said  he,  "  I  will  that  it  be  as  thou  didst  say."  ''What 
saying  was  that?"  asked  Rhiannon.  "Lady,"  said  Pryderi, 
"  I  did  offer  thee  as  a  wife  to  Manawyddan,  the  son  of  Llyr." 
"  By  that  will  I  gladly  abide, "  said  Rhiannon.  "Right  glad 
am  I  also,"  said  Manawyddan;  "may  Heaven  reward  him 
who  hath  shown  unto  me  friendship  so  perfect  as  this  !" 

And  before  the  feast  was  over  she  became  his  bride.  Said 
Pryderi,  "  Tarry  ye  here  the  rest  of  the  feast,  and  I  will  go  into 
England  to  tender  my  homage  unto  Caswallawn,  the  son  of  Beli. ' ' 
"  Lord,"  said  Rhiannon,  "  Caswallawn  is  in  Kent ;  thou  mayest 
therefore  tarry  at  the  feast,  and  wait  until  he  shall  be  nearer." 
"We  will  wait,"  he  answered."  So  they  finished  the  feast. 
And  they  began  to  make  the  circuit  of  Dyved,  and  to  hunt,  and 
to  take  their  pleasure.  And  as  they  went  through  the  country, 
they  had  never  seen  lands  more  pleasant  to  live  in,  nor  better 
hunting  grounds,  nor  greater  plenty  of  honey  and  fish.  And  such 
was  the  friendship  between  these  four,  that  they  would  not  be 
parted  from  each  other  by  night  nor  by  day. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  he  went  to  Caswallawn  at  Oxford, 
and  tendered  his  homage ;  and  honorable  was  his  reception 
there,  and  highly  was  he  praised  for  offering  his  homage. 

And  after  his  return  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  feasted  and 
took  their  ease  and  pleasure.  And  they  began  a  feast  at  Nar- 
berth,  for  it  was  the  chief  palace.  And  when  they  had  ended 
the  first  meal,  while  those  who  served  them  ate,  they  arose  and 


286  THE  MABINGOEOK 

went  forth,  and  proceeded  to  the  Gorsedd,  that  is,  the  Mound 
of  Narberth,  and  their  retinue  with  them.  And  as  they  sat  thus, 
behold  a  ])eal  of  thunder,  and  with  the  violence  of  the  thunder- 
storm, lo  !  there  came  a  fall  of  mist,  so  thick  that  not  one  of 
them  could  see  the  other.  And  after  the  mist  it  became  light 
all  around.  And  when  they  looked  towards  the  place  where 
they  were  wont  to  see  cattle  and  herds  and  dwellings,  they  saw 
nothing  now,  neither  house,  nor  beast,  nor  smoke,  nor  fire,  nor 
man,  nor  dwelling,  but  the  buildings  of  the  court  empty,  and 
desert,  and  uninhabited,  without  either  man  or  beast  within 
them.  And  truly  all  their  companions  were  lost  to  them  with- 
out their  knowing  aught  of  what  had  befallen  them,  save  those 
four  only. 

''In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  said  Manawyddan,  "where  are 
they  of  the  court,  and  all  my  host  beside?  Let  us  go  and 
see." 

So  they  came  to  the  castle,  and  saw  no  man,  and  into  the 
hall,  and  to  the  sleeping  place,  and  there  was  none ;  and  in  the 
mead-cellar  and  in  the  kitchen  there  was  naught  but  desolation. 
Then  they  began  to  go  through  the  land,  and  all  the  possessions 
that  they  had ;  and  they  visited  the  houses  and  dwellings,  and 
found  nothing  but  wild  beasts.  And  when  they  had  consumed 
their  feast  and  all  their  provisions,  they  fed  upon  the  prey  they 
killed  in  hunting,  and  the  honey  of  the  wild  swarms. 

And  one  morning  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  rose  up  to  hunt, 
and  they  ranged  their  dogs  and  went  forth.  And  some  of  the 
dogs  ran  before  them,  and  came  to  a  bush  which  was  near  at 
hand ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were  come  to  the  bush,  they  hastily 
drew  back,  and  returned  to  the  men,  their  hair  bristling  up 
greatly.  "  Let  us  go  near  to  the  bush,"  said  Prydeii,  "and  see 
what  is  in  it. ' '  And  as  they  came  near,  behold,  a  wild  boar  of 
a  pure  white  color  rose  up  from  the  bush.  Then  the  dogs,  being 
set  on  by  the  men,  rushed  towards  him ;  but  he  left  the  bush, 
and  fell  back  a  little  way  from  the  men,  and  made  a  stand  against 
the  dogs,  without  retreating  from  them,  until  the  men  had  come 
near.  And  when  the  men  came  up,  he  fell  back  a  second  time, 
and  betook  him  to  flight.  Then  they  pursued  the  boar  until  they 
beheld  a  vast  and  lofty  castle,  all  newly  built,  in  a  place  where 
they  had  never  before  seen  either  stone  or  building.     And  the 


MANAWYDDAN.  287 

boir  ran  swiftly  into  the  castle,  and  the  dogs  after  him.  Now 
when  the  boar  and  the  dogs  had  gone  into  the  castle,  the  men 
began  to  wonder  at  finding  a  castle  in  a  place  where  they  had 
never  before  seen  any  building  whatsoever.  And  from  the  top 
of  the  (jorsedd  they  looked  and  listened  for  the  dogs.  But  so 
long  as  they  were  there,  they  heard  not  one  of  the  dogs,  nor 
aught  concerning  them. 

^'  Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  "  I  will  go  into  the  castle  to  get  tidings 
of  the  dogs."  "Truly,"  he  replied,  "thou  wouldst  be  unwise 
to  go  into  this  castle,  which  thou  hast  never  seen  till  now.  If 
thou  wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  enter  therein. 
Whosoever  has  cast  a  spell  over  this  land,  has  caused  this  castle 
to  be  here."  "  Of  a  truth,"  answered  Pryderi,  "  I  cannot  thus 
give  up  my  dogs. ' '  And  for  all  the  counsel  that  Manawyddan 
gave  him,  yet  to  the  castle  he  went. 

When  he  came  within  the  castle,  neither  man  nor  beast,  nor 
boar,  nor  dogs,  nor  house,  nor  dwelling,  saw  he  within  it.  But 
in  the  centre  of  the  castle- floor  he  beheld  a  fountain  with  marble- 
work  around  it,  and  on  the  margin  of  the  fountain  a  golden  bowl 
upon  a  marble  slab,  and  chains  hanging  from  the  air,  to  which  he 
saw  no  end. 

And  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  beauty  of  the  gold,  and 
with  the  rich  workmanship  of  the  bowl ;  and  he  went  up  to  the 
bowl,  and  laid  hold  of  it  And  when  he  had  taken  hold  of  it, 
his  hands  stuck  to  the  bowl,  and  his  feet  to  the  slab  on  which  the 
bowl  was  placed  ;  and  all  his  joyousness  forsook  him,  so  that  he 
could  not  utter  a  word.     And  thus  he  stood. 

And  Manawyddan  waited  for  him  till  near  the  close  of  the 
day.  And  late  in  the  evening,  being  certain  that  he  should  have 
no  tidings  of  Pryderi  or  the  dogs,  he  went  back  to  the  palace. 
And  as  he  entered,  Rhiannon  looked  at  him.  "Where,"  said 
she,  "are  thy  companion  and  thy  dogs?"  "Behold,"  he  an- 
swered, "  the  adventure  that  has  befallen  me."  And  he  related 
it  all  unto  her.  "An  evil  companion  hast  thou  been,"  said 
Rhiannon,  "and  a  good  companion  hast  thou  lost."  And  with 
that  word  she  went  out,  and  proceeded  towards  the  castle,  ac- 
cording to  the  direction  which  he  gave  her.  The  gate  of  the 
castle  she  found  open.  She  was  nothing  daunted,  and  she  went 
in.     And  as  she  went  in,  she  perceived  Pryderi  laying  hold  of 


288  THE  MABlNOOtJON. 

the  bowl,  and  she  went  towards  him.  ''  O  my  lord,"  said  she, 
"  what  dost  thou  here?"  And  she  took  hold  of  the  bowl  with 
him  ;  and  as  she  did  so,  her  hands  also  became  fast  to  the  bowl, 
and  her  feet  to  the  slab,  and  she  -was  not  able  to  utter  a  word. 
And  with  that,  as  it  became  night,  lo  !  there  came  thunder 
upon  them,  and  a  fall  of  mist ;  and  thereupon  the  castle  van- 
ished, and  they  with  it. 

When  Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Glynn  Gloy,  saw  that  there  was 
no  one  in  the  palace  but  herself  and  Manawyddan,  she  sor- 
rowed so  that  she  cared  not  whether  she  lived  or  died.  And 
Manawyddan  saw  this.  '^Thou  art  in  the  wrong,"  said  he, 
'^if  through  fear  of  me  thou  grievest  thus.  I  call  Heaven  to 
witness  that  thou  hast  never  seen  friendship  more  pure  than  that 
which  I  will  bear  thee,  as  long  as  Heaven  will  that  thou  shouldst 
be  thus.  I  declare  to  thee,  that,  were  I  in  the  dawn  of  youth,  I 
would  keep  my  faith  unto  Pryderi,  and  unto  thee  also  will  I  keep 
it.  Be  there  no  fear  upon  thee,  therefore."  ''  Heaven  reward 
thee  !"  she  said  ;  "  and  that  is  what  I  deemed  of  thee."  And 
the  damsel  thereupon  took  courage,  and  was  glad. 

"  Truly,  lady,"  said  Manawyddan,  "^  it  is  not  fitting  for  us  to 
stay  here  ;  we  have  lost  our  dogs,  and  cannot  get  food.  Let  us 
go  into  England;  it  is  easiest  for  us  to  find  support  there." 
"  Gladly,  lord,"  said  she,  "  we  will  do  so."  And  they  set  forth 
together  to  England. 

**Lord,"  said  she,  ^^what  craft  wilt  thou  follow?  Take  up 
one  that  is  seemly.  ^'None  other  will  I  take, "  answered  he, 
"but  that  of  making  shoes."  ^^Lord,"  said  she,  ^^such  a 
craft  becomes  not  a  man  so  nobly  born  as  thou."  "  By  that, 
however,  will  I  abide,"  said  he.  '^I  know  nothing  thereof," 
said  Kicva.  "  But  I  know/'  answered  Manawyddan,  ^^and  I 
will  teach  thee  to  stitch.  We  will  not  attempt  to  dress  the 
leather,  but  we  will  buy  it  ready  dressed,  and  will  make  the  shoes 
from  it." 

So  they  went  into  England,  and  went  as  far  as  Hereford ; 
and  they  betook  themselves  to  making  shoes.  And  he  began  by 
buying  the  best  cord  wain  that  could  be  had  in  the  town,  and 
none  other  would  he  buy.  And  he  associated  himself  with  the 
best  goldsmith  in  the  town,  and  caused  him  to  make  clasps  for 
the  shoes,  and  to  gild  the  clasps ;  and   he  marked  how  it  was 


MANA  WYDDAI^.  289 

done  until  he  learned  the  method.  And  therefore  is  he  called 
one  of  the  three  makers  of  gold  shoes.  And  when  they  could 
be  had  from  him,  not  a  shoe  nor  hose  was  bought  of  any  of  the 
cordwainers  in  the  town.  But  when  the  cordwainers  perceived 
that  their  gains  were  failing  (for  as  Manawyddan  shaped  the 
work,  so  Kicva  stitched  it),  they  came  together  and  took  coun- 
sel, and  agreed  that  they  would  slay  them.  And  he  had  warning 
thereof,  and  it  was  told  him  how  the  cordwainers  had  agreed 
together  to  slay  him. 

''Lord,"  said  Kicva,  "wherefore  should  this  be  borne  from 
these  boors  ?"  "  Nay, ' '  said  he,  ' '  we  will  go  back  unto  Dyved. ' ' 
So  towards  Dyved  they  set  forth. 

Now  Manawyddan,  when  he  set  out  to  return  to  Dyved,  took 
with  him  a  burden  of  wheat.  And  then  he  began  to  prepare 
some  ground,  and  he  sowed  a  croft,  and  a  second,  and  a  third. 
And  no  wheat  in  the  world  ever  sprung  up  better.  And  the  three 
crofts  prospered  with  perfect  growth,  and  no  man  ever  saw  fairer 
wheat  than  it. 

And  thus  passed  the  seasons  of  the  year  until  the  harvest  came. 
And  he  went  to  look  at  one  of  his  crofts,  and,  behold,  it  was 
ripe.  "I  will  reap  this  to-morrow,"  said  he.  And  that  night 
he  went  back  to  Narberth,  and  on  the  morrow,  in  the  gray  dawn, 
he  went  to  reap  the  croft ;  and  when  he  came  there,  he  found 
nothing  but  the  bare  straw.  Every  one  of  the  ears  of  the  wheat 
was  cut  off  from  the  stalk,  and  all  the  ears  carried  entirely  away, 
and  nothing  but  the  straw  left.    And  at  this  he  marvelled  greatly. 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  another  croft,  and,  behold,  that  also 
was  ripe.  ''Verily,"  said  he,  "this  will  I  reap  to-morrow." 
And  on  the  morrow  he  came  with  the  intent  to  reap  it ;  and 
when  he  came  there,  he  found  nothing  but  the  bare  straw.  "  O 
gracious  Heaven  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  know  that  whosoever  has 
begun  my  ruin  is  completing  it,  and  has  also  destroyed  the 
country  with  me." 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  third  croft ;  and  when  he  came 
there,  finer  wheat  had  there  never  been  seen,  and  this  also  was 
ripe.  "  Evil  betide  me,"  said  he,  "  if  I  watch  not  here  to-night. 
Whoever  carried  off  the  other  corn  will  come  in  like  manner  to 
take  this,  and  I  will  know  who  it  is."  And  he  told  Kicva  all 
that  had  befallen.      "  Verily,"  said  she,  "what  thinkest  thou  to 

id 


290  THE  MABINOOEON. 

do?"      "  I  will  watch  the  croft  to-night,"  said  he.     And   he 
went  to  watch  the  croft. 

And  at  midnight  he  heard  something  stirring  among  the 
wheat ;  and  he  looked,  and  behold,  the  mightiest  host  of  mice 
in  the  world,  which  could  neither  be  numbered  nor  measured. 
And  he  knew  not  what  it  was  until  the  mice  had  went  their  way 
into  the  croft,  and  each  of  them,  climbing  up  the  straw,  and 
bending  it  down  with  its  weight,  had  cut  off  one  of  the  ears  of 
wheat,  and  had  carried  it  away,  leaving  there  the  stalk ;  and  he 
saw  not  a  single  straw  there  that  had  not  had  a  mouse  to  it. 
And  they  all  took  their  way,  carrying  the  ears  with  them. 

In  wrath  and  anger  did  he  rush  upon  the  mice  ;  but  he  could 
no  more  come  up  with  them  than  if  they  had  been  gnats  or  birds 
of  the  air,  except  one  only,  which,  though  it  was  but  sluggish, 
went  so  fast  that  a  man  on  foot  could  scarce  overtake  it.  And 
after  this  one  he  went,  and  he  caught  it,  and  put  it  in  his  glove, 
and  tied  up  the  opening  of  the  glove  with  a  string,  and  kept  it 
with  him,  and  returned  to  the  palace.  Then  he  came  to  the  hall 
where  Kicva  was,  and  he  lighted  a  fire,  and  hung  the  glove  by 
the  string  upon  a  peg.  ''What  hast  thou  there,  lord?"  said 
Kicva.  "A  thief,"  said  he,  ''that  I  found  robbing  me." 
"What  kind  of  a  thief  may  it  be,  lord,  that  thou  couldst  put 
into  thy  glove  ?' '  said  she.  Then  he  told  her  how  the  mice 
came  to  the  last  of  the  fields  in  his  sight.  "  And  one  of  them 
was  less  nimble  than  the  rest,  and  is  now  in  my  glove  ;  to-morrow 
I  will  hang  it."  "My  lord,"  said  she,  "  this  is  marvellous;  but 
yet  it  would  be  unseemly  for  a  man  of  dignity  like  thee  to  be 
hanging  such  a  reptile  as  this."  "Woe  betide  me,"  said  he, 
''  if  I  would  not  hang  them  all,  could  I  catch  them,  and  such  as 
I  have  I  will  hang."  "Verily,  lord,"  said  she,  "there  is  no 
reason  that  I  should  succor  this  reptile,  except  to  prevent  dis- 
credit unto  thee.      Do  therefore,  lord,  as  thou  wilt." 

Then  he  went  to  the  Mound  of  Narberth,  taking  the  mouse 
with  him.  And  he  set  up  two  forks  on  the  highest  part  of  the 
mound.  And  while  he  was  doing  this,  behold,  he  saw  a  scholar 
coming  towards  him,  in  old  and  poor  and  tattered  garments. 
And  it  was  now  seven  years  since  he  had  seen  in  that  place 
either  man  or  beast,  except  those  four  persons  who  had  remained 
together  until  two  of  them  were  lost. 


MANA  WYDDAN.  2gl 

' '  My  lord,  "said  the  scholar,  ' '  good  day  to  thee. "  '  *  Heaven 
prosper  thee,  and  my  greetin?:  be  unto  thee  !  And  whence  dost 
thou  come,  scholar?"  asked  he.  ''I  come,  lord,  from  singing 
in  England;  and  wherefore  dost  thou  inquire?"  **  Because  for 
the  last  seven  years,"  answered  he,  ''I  have  seen  no  man  here 
save  four  secluded  persons,  and  thyself  this  moment. "  ' '  Truly, 
lord,"  said  he,  "I  go  through  this  land  unto  mine  own. 
And  what  work  art  thou  upon,  lord?"  ''  I  am  hanging  a  thief 
that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  ''  What  manner  of  thief  is 
that?"  asked  the  scholar.  **  I  see  a  creature  in  thy  hand  like 
unto  a  mouse,  and  ill  does  it  become  a  man  of  rank  equal  to 
thine  to  touch  a  reptile  such  as  this.  Let  it  go  forth  free."  **  I 
will  not  let  it  go  free,  by  Heaven,"  said  he ;  ^'  I  caught  it  rob- 
bing me,  and  the  doom  of  a  thief  I  will  inflict  upon  it,  and  I 
will  hang  it."  ''Lord,"  said  he,  ''rather  than  see  a  man  of 
rank  equal  to  thine  at  such  a  work  as  this,  I  would  give  thee  a 
pound,  which  I  have  received  as  alms,  to  let  the  reptile  go  forth 
free."  "  I  will  not  let  it  go  free,"  said  he,  "neither  will  I  sell 
it."  "As  thou  wilt,  lord,"  he  answered;  "  I  care  naught." 
And  the  scholar  went  his  way. 

And  as  he  was  placing  the  cross-beam  upon  the  two  forks, 
behold,  a  priest  came  towards  him,  upon  a  horse  covered  with 
trappings.  "Good  day  to  thee,  lord,"  said  he.  "Heaven 
prosper  thee!"  said  Manawyddan ;  "thy  blessing."  "The 
blessing  of  Heaven  be  upon  thee  !  And  what,  lord,  art  thou 
doing?"  "I  am  hanging  a  thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me," 
said  he.  "What  manner  of  thief,  lord?"  asked  he.  "A 
creature,"  he  answered,  "in  form  of  a  mouse.  It  has  been 
robbing  me,  and  I  am  inflicting  upon  it  the  doom  of  a  thief." 
"Lord,"  said  he,  "  rather  than  see  thee  touch  this  reptile,  I 
would  purchase  its  freedom."  "  By  my  confession  to  Heaven, 
neither  will  I  sell  it  nor  set  it  free."  "  It  is  true,  lord,  that  it 
is  worth  nothing  to  buy ;  but  rather  than  see  thee  defile  thyself 
by  touching  such  a  reptile  as  this,  I  will  give  thee  three  pounds 
to  let  it  go."  "I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "take  any 
price  for  it.  As  it  ought,  so  shall  it  be  hanged."  And  the  priest 
went  his  way. 

Then  he  noosed  the  string  around  the  mouse's  neck,  and  as 
he  was  about  to  draw  it  up,  behold,  he  saw  a  bishop's  retinue, 


292  THE  MABINOQEON. 

with  his  sumpter-horses  and  his  attendants.  And  the  bishop 
himself  came  towards  him.  And  he  stayed  his  work.  **Lord 
Bishop,"  said  he,  ^^thy  blessing."  ''  Heaven's  blessing  be  unto 
thee  !"  said  he,  ^'  What  work  art  thou  upon?"  ''  Hanging  a 
thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  '*  Is  not  that  a  mouse 
that  I  see  in  thy  hand?"  *' Yes,"  answered  he,  "and  she  has 
robbed  me."  "  Ay,"  said  he,  '*  since  I  have  come  at  the  doom 
of  this  reptile,  I  will  ransom  it  of  thee.  I  will  give  thee  seven 
pounds  for  it,  and  that  rather  than  see  a  man  of  rank  equal  to 
thine  destroying  so  vile  a  reptile  as  this.  Let  it  loose,  and  thou 
shalt  have  the  money."  "I  declare  to  Heaven  that  I  will  not 
let  it  loose."  "  If  thou  wilt  not  loose  it  for  this,  I  will  give 
thee  four  and  twenty  pounds  of  ready  money  to  set  it  free." 
"  I  will  not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven,  for  as  much  again,"  said  he. 
*'If  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free  for  this,  I  will  give  thee  all  the 
horses  that  thou  seest  in  this  plain,  and  the  seven  loads  of  bag- 
gage, and  the  seven  horses  that  they  are  upon."  ''  I  will  not," 
he  replied.  ^'  Since  for  this  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free,  do  so  at  what 
price  soever  thou  wilt."  ^'  I  will  that  Rhiannon  and  Pryderi  be 
free,"  said  he.  ''  That  thou  shalt  have,"  he  answered.  *'  Not 
yet  will  I  loose  the  mouse,  by  Heaven."  "  What  then  wouldst 
thou?"  ''That  the  charm  and  the  illusion  be  removed  from 
the  seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved."  *'  This  shalt  thou  have  also  ;  set 
therefore  the  mouse  free."  "  I  will  not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven," 
said  he,  ''till  I  know  who  the  mouse  may  be."  "  She  is  my 
wife."  "Wherefore  came  she  tome?"  "To  despoil  thee," 
he  answered.  "  I  am  Lloyd,  the  son  of  Kilwed,  and  I  cast  the 
charm  over  the  seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved.  And  it  was  to  avenge 
Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  from  the  friendship  I  had  towards  him, 
that  I  cast  the  charm.  And  upon  Pryderi  did  I  avenge  Gawl, 
the  son  of  Clud,  for  the  game  of  Badger  in  the  Bag,  that  Pwyll, 
the  son  of  Auwyn  played  upon  him.  And  when  it  was  known 
that  thou  wast  come  to  dwell  in  the  land,  my  household  came 
and  besought  me  to  transform  them  into  mice,  that  they  might 
destroy  thy  corn.  And  they  went  the  first  and  the  second  night, 
and  destroyed  thy  two  crops.  And  the  third  night  came  unto 
me  my  wife  and  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  besought  me  to 
transform  them.  And  I  transfonned  them.  Now  she  is  not  in 
her  usual  health.     And  had  she  been  in  her  usual  health,  thou 


MANA  WYDDA  N.  293 

wouldst  not  have  been  able  to  overtake  her  ;  but  since  this  has 
taken  place,  and  she  has  been  caught,  I  will  restore  to  thee 
Pryderi  and  Rhiannon,  and  I  will  take  the  charm  and  illusion 
from  off  Dyved.  Set  her  therefore  free."  ''I  will  not  set 
her  free  yet."  ''What  wilt  thou  more  ?"  he  asked.  ''I  will 
that  there  be  no  more  charm  upon  the  seven  cantrevs  of 
Dyved,  and  that  none  shall  be  put  upon  it  henceforth ;  more- 
over, that  vengeance  be  never  taken  for  this,  either  upon  Pry- 
deri or  Rhiannon,  or  upon  me."  ''All  this  shalt  thou  have. 
And  truly  thou  hast  done  wisely  in  asking  this.  Upon  thy 
head  would  have  lit  all  this  trouble."  "Yea,"  said  he,  "for 
fear  thereof  was  it  that  I  required  this."  "Set  now  my  wife 
at  liberty."  "  I  will  not,"  said  he,  "until  I  see  Pryderi  and 
Rhiannon  with  me  free."  "Behold,  here  they  come,"  he 
answered. 

And  thereupon  behold  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon.  And  he  rose 
up  to  meet  them,  and  greeted  them,  and  sat  down  beside  them. 
"Ah,  chieftain,  set  now  my  wife  at  liberty,"  said  the  bishop. 
"  Hast  thou  not  received  all  thou  didst  ask?"  "  I  will  release 
her,  gladly,"  said  he.     And  thereupon  he  set  her  free. 

Then  he  struck  her  with  a  magic  wand,  and  she  was  changed 
back  into  a  young  woman,  the  fairest  ever  seen. 

"  Look  round  upon  thy  land,"  said  he,  "and  thou  wilt  see  it 
all  tilled  and  peopled  as  it  was  in  its  best  estate."  And  he  rose 
up  and  looked  forth.  And  when  he  looked  he  saw  all  the  lands 
tilled,  and  full  of  herds  and  dwellings. 

And  thus  ends  this  portion  of  the  Mabinogi. 

The  poet  Southey,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  thus  refers  to  the  pre- 
ceding story  : 

"You  will  read  the  Mabinogeon,  concerning  which  I  ought 
to  have  talked  to  you.  In  the  last,  that  most  odd  and  Arabian - 
like  story  of  the  mouse,  mention  is  made  of  a  begging  scholar, 
that  helps  to  the  date ;  but  where  did  the  Cymri  get  the  imagi- 
nation  that  could  produce  such  a  tale  ?  That  enchantment  of 
the  basin  hanging  by  the  chain  from  heaven  is  in  the  wildest 
spirit  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  I  am  perfectly  astonished  that 
such  fictions  should  exist  in  Welsh.  They  throw  no  light  on  the 
origin  of  romance,  everything  being  utterly  dissimilar  to  what 


294 


THE  MABINOGEON. 


we  mean  by  that  term,  but  they  do  open  a  new  world  of  fiction  ; 
and  if  the  date  of  their  language  be  fixed  about  the  twelfth  or 
thirteenth  century,  I  cannot  but  think  the  mythological  substance 
is  of  far  earlier  date ;  very  probably  brought  from  the  East  by 
some  of  the  first  settlers  or  conquerors. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Kirwich  and  Ol'wen. 


KiLYDD,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  desired  a  wife  as  a  help- 
mate, and  the  wife  that  he  chose  was  Goleudid,  the  daughter  of 
Prince  Anlawd.  And  after  their  union  the  people  put  up  prayers 
that  they  might  have  an  heir.  And  they  had  a  son  through  the 
prayers  of  the  people  ;  and  called  his  name  Kilwich. 

After  this  thel)oy's  mother,  Goleudid,  the  daughter  of  Prince 
Anlawd,  fell  sick.  Then  she  called  her  husband  to  her,  and  said 
to  him,  "  Of  this  sickness  I  shall  die,  and  thou  wilt  take  another 
wife.  Now  wives  are  the  gift  of  the  Lord,  but  it  would  be  wrong 
for  thee  to  harm  thy  son.  Therefore  I  charge  thee  that  thou  take 
not  a  wife  until  thou  see  a  briar  with  two  blossoms  upon  my 
grave."  And  this  he  promised  her.  Then  she  besought  him  to 
dress  her  grave  every  year,  that  no  weeds  might  grow  thereon. 
So  the  queen  died.  Now  the  king  sent  an  attendant  every  morn- 
ing to  see  if  anything  were  growing  upon  the  grave.  And  at  the 
end  of  the  seventh  year  they  neglected  that  which  they  had  prom- 
ised to  the  queen. 

One  day  the  king  went  to  hunt ;  and  he  rode  to  the  place  of 
burial  to  see  the  grave,  and  to  know  if  it  were  time  that  he  should 
take  a  wife  :  and  the  king  saw  the  briar.  And  when  he  saw  it, 
the  king  took  counsel  where  he  should  find  a  wife.  Said  one  of 
his  counsellors,  '^  I  know  a  wife  that  will  suit  thee  well ;  and  she 
is  the  wife  of  King  Doged."  And  they  resolved  to  go  fo  seek 
her ;  and  they  slew  the  king,  and  brought  away  his  wife.     And 

(295) 


296  THE  MABINOGEON. 

they  conquered  the  king's  lands.  And  he  married  the  widow 
of  King  Doged,  the  sister  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr. 

And  one  day  his  stepmother  said  to  Kilwich,  *'It  were  well 
for  thee  to  have  a  wife."  **  I  am  not  yet  of  an  age  to  wed," 
answered  the  youth.  Then  said  she  unto  him,  *'  I  declare  to  thee 
that  it  is  thy  destiny  not  to  be  suited  with  a  wife  until  thou  ob- 
tain Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  And  the 
youth  blushed,  and  the  love  of  the  maiden  diffused  itself  through 
all  his  frame,  although  he  had  never  seen  her.  And  his  father 
inquired  of  him,  "What  has  come  over  thee,  my  son,  and  what 
aileth  thee?"  ''My  stepmother  has  declared  to  me  that  I  shall 
never  have  a  wife  until  I  obtain  Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspad- 
aden Penkawr."  ''That  will  be  easy  for  thee,"  answered  his 
father.  "Arthur  is  thy  cousin.  Go,  therefore,  unto  Arthur, 
to  cut  thy  hair,  and  ask  this  of  him  as  a  boon." 

And  the  youth  pricked  forth  upon  a  steed  with  head  dappled 
gray,  four  winters  old,  firm  of  limb,  with  shell-formed  hoofs, 
having  a  bridle  of  linked  gold  on  his  head,  and  upon  him  a  sad- 
dle of  costly  gold. 

"  And  in  his  hand  were  two  spears 
Of  silver,  well-tempered,  and  of  an  edge 
To  wound  the  wind,  and  swifter 
Than  the  fall  of  dew." 

A  gold-hilted  sword  was  upon  his  thigh,  the  blade  of  which  was 
gilded,  bearing  a  cross  of  inlaid  gold  of  the  hue  of  the  lightning 
of  heaven.  His  war-horn  was  of  ivory.  Before  him  were  two 
brindled,  white-breasted  greyhounds,  having  strong  collars  of 
rubies  about  their  necks,  reaching  from  the  shoulder  to  the  ear. 
And  the  one  that  was  upon  the  left  side  bounded  across  to  the 
right  side,  and  the  one  on  the  right  to  the  left,  and,  like  two 
sea-swallows,  sported  around  him.  And  his  courser  cast  up  four 
sods,  with  his  four  hoofs,  like  four  swallows  in  the  air,  about  his 
head,  now  above,  now  below.  About  him  was  a  four-cornered 
cloth  of  purple,  and  an  apple  of  gold  was  at  each  corner,  and 
every  one  of  the  apples  was  of  the  value  of  an  hundred  kine. 
And  there  was  precious  gold  of  the  value  of  three  hundred  kine 
upon  h'is  shoes,  and  upon  his  stirrups,  from  his  knee  to  the  tip 
of  his  toe.     And  the  blade  of  grass  bent  not  beneath  him,  so 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN.  297 

light  was  his  courser's  tread,  as  he  journeyed  toward  the  gate  of 
Arthur's  palace.' 

Spoke  the  youth  :  '*  Is  there  a  porter?"  "  There  is  ;  and  if 
thou  holdest  not  thy  peace,  small  will  be  thy  welcome.  I  am 
Arthur's  porter  every  first  day  of  January. "  ' '  Open  the  portal. '  * 
**  I  will  not  open  it."      "  Wherefore  not?" 

"  The  knife  is  in  the  meat, 
And  ihe  drink  is  in  the  horn," 

and  there  is  revelry  in  Arthur's  hall ;  and  none  may  enter  therein 
but  the  son  of  a  king  of  a  privileged  country,  or  a  craftsman 
bringing  his  craft.  But  there  will  be  refreshment  for  thy  dogs 
and  for  thy  horse ;  and  for  thee  there  will  be  collops  cooked  and 
peppered,  and  luscious  wine,  and  mirthful  songs ;  and  food  for 
fifty  men  shall  be  brought  unto  thee  in  the  guest-chamber,  where 
the  stranger  and  the  sons  of  other  countries  eat,  who  come  not 
into  the  precincts  of  the  palace  of  Arthur.  Thou  wilt  fare  no 
worse  there  than  thou  wouldst  with  Arthur  in  the  court.  A  lady 
shall  smooth  thy  couch,  and  shall  lull  thee  with  songs  ;  and  early 
to-morrow  morning,  when  the  gate  is  open  for  the  multitude  that 
came,  hither  to-day,  for  thee  shall  it  be  opened  first,  and  thou 
mayest  sit  in  the  place  that  thou  shalt  choose  in  Arthur's  hall, 
from  the  upper  end  to  the  lower."  Said  the  youth  :  ''That  will 
I  not  do.  If  thou  openest  the  gate,  it  is  well.  If  thou  dost  not 
open  it,  I  will  bring  disgrace  upon  thy  lord,  and  evil  report  upon 
thee.  And  I  will  set  up  three  shouts  at  this  very  gate,  than 
which  none  were  ever  heard  more  deadly."  "What  clamor 
soever  thou  mayest  make,"  said  Glewlwyd  the  porter,  ''against 
the  laws  of  Arthur's  palace,  shalt  thou  not  enter  therein,  until  I 
first  go  and  speak  with  Arthur. ' ' 

Then  Glewlwyd  went  into  the  hall.  And  Arthur  said  to  him, 
' '  Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate  ?"  "  Half  of  my  life  is  passed, ' ' 
said  Glewlwyd,  "and  half  of  thine.  I  was  heretofore  in  Kaer 
Se  and  Asse,  in  Sach  and  Salach,  in  Lotorand  Fotor,  and  I  have 
been  in  India  the  Great  and  India  the  Lesser,  and  I  have  also 
been  in  Europe  and  Africa,  and  in  the  islands  of  Corsica,  and  I 
was  present  when  thou  didst  conquer  Greece  in  the  East.     Nine 

*  The  above  is  an  exquisite  specimen  of  Celtic  poetry. 


298  THE  MABINOGEON. 

supreme  sovereigns,  handsome  men,  saw  we  there,  but  never  did 
I  behold  a  man  of  equal  dignity  with  him  who  is  now  at  the  door 
of  the  portal."  Then  said  Arthur  :  *'If  walking  thou  didst 
enter  here,  return  thou  running.  It  is  unbecoming  to  keep  such 
a  man  as  thou  sayest  he  is  in  the  wind  and  the  rain."  Said 
Kay :  **  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  if  thou  wouldst  follow  my 
counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  break  through  the  laws  of  the  court 
because  of  him."  "  Not  so,  blessed  Kay,"  said  Arthur  ;  *'  it  is 
an  honor  to  us  to  be  resorted  to,  and  the  greater  our  courtesy, 
the  greater  will  be  our  renown  and  our  fame  and  our  glory." 

And  Glewlwyd  came  to  the  gate,  and  opened  the  gate  before 
Kilwich  ;  and  although  all  dismounted  upon  the  horse-block  at 
the  gate,  yet  did  he  not  dismount,  but  he  rode  in  upon  his 
charger.  Then  said  he,  *'  Greeting  be  unto  thee,  sovereign  ruler 
of  this  island,  and  be  this  greeting  no  less  unto  the  lowest  than 
unto  the  highest,  and  be  it  equally  unto  thy  guests,  and  thy  war- 
riors, and  thy  chieftains ;  let  all  partake  of  it  as  completely  as 
thyself.  And  complete  be  thy  favor,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy 
glory,  throughout  all  this  island."  ''  Greeting  unto  thee  also," 
said  Arthur;  ''sit  thou  between  two  of  my  warriors,  and  thou 
shalt  have  minstrels  before  thee,  and  thou  shalt  enjoy  the  privi- 
leges of  a  king  born  to  a  throne,  as  long  as  thou  remainest  here. 
And  when  I  dispense  my  presents  to  the  visitors  and  strangers  in 
this  court,  they  shall  be  in  thy  hand  at  my  commencing."  Said 
the  youth,  ''I  came  not  here  to  consume  meat  and  drink  ;  but 
if  I  obtain  the  boon  that  I  seek,  I  will  requite  it  thee,  and  extol 
thee ;  but  if  I  have  it  not,  I  will  bear  forth  thy  dispraise  to  the 
four  quarters  of  the  world,  as  far  as  thy  renown  has  extended." 
Then  said  Arthur,  ''  Since  thou  wilt  not  remain  here,  chieftain, 
thou  shalt  receive  the  boon,  whatsoever  thy  tongue  may  name, 
as  far  as  the  wind  dries,  and  the  rain  moistens,  and  the  sun  re- 
volves, and  the  sea  encircles,  and  the  earth  extends ;  save  only 
my  ship  Prydwen,  and  my  mantle,  and  Caleburn,  my  sword,  and 
Rhongomyant,  my  lance,  and  Guinevere,  my  wife.  By  the 
truth  of  Heaven,  thou  shalt  have  it  cheerfully,  name  what  thou 
wilt."  *' I  would  that  thou  bless  my  hair,"  said  he.  "That 
shall  be  granted  thee." 

And  Arthur  took  a  golden  comb,  and  scissors  whereof  the 
loops  were  of  silver,  and  he  combed  his  hair.     And  Arthur  in- 


KIL  WIGH  AND  OL  WEN.  299 

quired  of  him  who  he  was ;  "for  my  heart  warms  unto  thee, 
and  I  know  that  thou  art  come  of  my  blood.  Tell  me,  there- 
fore, who  thou  art."  *'  I  will  tell  thee,"  said  the  youth.  **  I 
am  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  by 
Goleudyd  my  mother,  the  daughter  of  Prince  Anlavvd."  "  That 
is  true,"  said  Arthur  ;  *'  thou  art  my  cousin.  Whatsoever  boon 
thou  mayest  ask,  thou  shalt  receive,  be  it  what  it  may  that  thy 
tongue  shall  name. "  *  *  Pledge  the  truth  of  Heaven  and  the  faith 
of  thy  kingdom  thereof."  "  I  pledge  it  thee  gladly."  **  I  crave 
of  thee,  then,  that  thou  obtain  for  me  Olwen,  the  daughter  of 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,  to  wife ;  and  this  boon  I  likewise  seek  at 
the  hands  of  thy  warriors. 

*' Olwen  of  slender  eyebrow,  pure  of  heart." — Brwynog. 

And  the  majestic  maiden,  Creiddylad,'  the  daughter  of  Lludd, 
the  constant  maiden,  and  Ewaedan,  the  daughter  of  Kynvelyn,^ 
the  half-man."  All  these  did  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd, 
adjure  to  obtain  his  boon. 

Then  said  Arthur,  **0  chieftain,  I  have  never  heard  of  the 
maiden  of  whom  thou  speakest,  nor  of  her  kindred,  but  I  will 
gladly  send  messengers  in  search  of  her.  Give  me  time  to  seek 
her."  And  the  youth  said,  "  I  will  willingly  grant  from  this 
night  to  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  to  do  so."  Then  Arthur 
sent  messengers  to  every  land  within  his  dominions  to  seek  for 
the  maiden,  and  at   the   end  of  the  year  Arthur's  messengers 

1  Creiddylad  is  no  other  than  Shakespeare's  Cordelia,  whose  father,  King 
Lear,  is  by  the  Welsh  authorities  called  indiscriminately  Llyr  or  Lludd.  All 
the  old  chroniclers  give  the  story  of  her  devotion  to  her  aged  parent,  but  none 
of  them  seem  to  have  been  aware  that  she  is  destined  to  remain  with  him  till 
the  day  of  doom,  whilst  Gwyn  ap  Nudd,  the  king  of  the  fairies,  and 
Gwythyr  ap  Greidiol,  fight  for  her  every  first  of  May,  and  whichever  of 
them  may  be  fortunate  enough  to  be  the  conqueror  at  that  time  will  obtain  her 
as  his  bride. 

2  The  Welsh  have  a  fable  on  the  subject  of  the  half-man,  taken  to  be  illus- 
trative of  the  force  of  habit.  In  this  allegory  Arthur  is  supposed  to  be  met 
by  a  sprite,  who  appears  at  first  in  a  small  and  indistinct  form,  but  who,  on 
approaching  nearer,  increases  in  size,  and,  assuming  the  semblance  of  half  a 
man,  endeavors  to  provoke  the  king  to  wrestle.  Despising  his  weakness,  and 
considering  that  he  should  gain  no  credit  by  the  encounter,  Arthur  refuses  to 
do  so,  and  delays  the  contest  until  at  length  the  half-man  (Habit)  becomes  so 
strong  that  it  requires  his  utmost  efforts  to  overcome  him. 


300  THE  MABINOGEON. 

returned  without  having  gained  any  knowledge  or  intelligence 
concerning  Olwen,  more  than  on  the  first  day.  Then  said  Kil- 
wich,  **  Every  one  has  received  his  boon,  and  I  yet  lack  mine, 
I  will  depart,  and  bear  away  thy  honor  with  me. ' '  Then  said  Kay, 
*'Rash  chieftain  !  dost  thou  reproach  Arthur?  Go  with  us,  and 
we  will  not  part  until  thou  dost  either  confess  that  the  maiden 
exists  not  in  the  world,  or  until  we  obtain  her."  Thereupon 
Kay  rose  up.  And  Arthur  called  Bedwyr,  who  never  shrank 
from  any  enterprise  upon  which  Kay  was  bound.  None  were 
equal  to  him  in  swiftness  throughout  this  island,  except  Arthur 
alone ;  and  although  he  was  one-handed,  three  warriors  could 
not  shed  blood  faster  than  he  on  the  field  of  battle. 

And  Arthur  called  to  Kyndelig,  the  guide,  ''  Go  thou  upon 
this  expedition  with  the  chieftain."  For  as  good  a  guide  was 
he  in  a  land  which  he  had  never  seen  as  he  was  in  his  own. 

He  called  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  because  he  knew  all  tongues. 

He  called  Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  because  he  never 
returned  home  without  achieving  the  adventure  of  which  he 
went  in  quest. 

And  Arthur  called  Meneu,  the  son  of  Teirgwed,  in  order  that, 
if  they  went  into  a  savage  country,  he  might  cast  a  charm  and 
an  illusion  over  them,  so  that  none  might  see  them  whilst  they 
could  see  every  one. 

They  journeyed  until  they  came  to  a  vast  open  plain,  wherein 
they  saw  a  great  castle,  which  was  the  fairest  of  the  castles  of 
the  world.  And  when  they  came  before  the  castle,  they  beheld 
a  vast  flock  of  sheep.  And  upon  the  top  of  a  mound  there  was 
a  herdsman  keeping  the  sheep.  And  a  rug  made  of  skins  was 
upon  him,  and  by  his  side  was  a  shaggy  mastiff,  larger  than  a 
steed  nine  winters  old. 

Then  said  Kay,  **  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  go  thou  and  salute  yonder 
man."  ''  Kay,"  said  he,  ''I  engaged  not  to  go  further  than  thou 
thyself. "  "  Let  us  go  then  together, ' '  answered  Kay.  Said  Meneu, 
''Fear  not  to  go  thither,  for  I  will  cast  a  spell  upon  the  dog,  so 
that  he  shall  injure  no  one."  And  they  went  up  to  the  mound 
whereon  the  herdsman  was,  and  they  said  to  him,  ''How  dost 
thou  fare,  herdsman?"  "  Not  less  fair  be  it  to  you  than  to  me." 
"Whose  are  the  sheep  that  thou  dost  keep,  and  to  whom  does 
yonder  castle  belong?"      "Stupid  are  ye,  truly!  not  to  know 


KIL  WICK  A  ND  OL  WEN.  30 1 

that  this  is  the  castle  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr.  And  ye  also,  who 
are  ye?"  "We  are  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  come  to  seek 
Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  "  O  men  !  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  be  upon  you  ;  do  not  that  for  all  the  world. 
None  who  ever  came  hither  on  this  quest  has  returned  alive." 
And  the  herdsman  rose  up.  And  as  he  rose  Kilwich  gave  unto 
him  a  ring  of  gold.  And  he  went  home  g-nd  gave  the  ring  to 
his  spouse  to  keep.  And  she  took  the  ring  when  it  was  given 
her,  and  she  said,  ''Whence  came  this  ring?  for  thou  art  not 
wont  to  have  good  fortune."  "  O  wife,  him  to  whom  this  ring 
belonged  thou  shalt  see  here  this  evening."  **  And  who  is  he?" 
asked  the  woman.  "  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  by  Goleudid, 
the  daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd,  who  is  come  to  seek  Olwen  as 
his  wife."  And  when  she  heard  that,  she  had  joy  that  her 
nephew,  the  son  of  her  sister,  was  coming  to  her,  and  sorrow, 
because  she  had  never  known  any  one  depart  alive  who  had 
come  on  that  quest. 

And  the  men  went  forward  to  the  gate  of  the  herdsman's 
dwelling.  And  when  she  heard  their  footsteps  approaching,  she 
ran  out  with  joy  to  meet  them.  And  Kay  snatched  a  billet  out 
of  the  pile.  And  when  she  met  them,  she  sought  to  throw  her 
arms  about  their  necks.  And  Kay  placed  the  log  between  her 
two  hands,  and  she  squeezed  it  so  that  it  became  a  twisted  coil. 
"  O  woman,"  said  Kay,  "if  thou  hadst  squeezed  me  thus,  none 
could  ever  again  have  set  their  affections  on  me.  Evil  love 
were  this. ' '  They  entered  into  the  house  and  were  served  ;  and 
soon  after,  they  all  went  forth  to  amuse  themselves.  Then  the 
woman  opened  a  stone  chest  that  was  before  the  chimney-corner, 
and  out  of  it  arose  a  youth  with  yellow,  curling  hair.  Said 
Gurhyr,  "It  is  a  pity  to  hide  this  youth.  I  know  that  it  is  not 
his  own  crime  that  is  thus  visited  upon  him."  "This  is  but  a 
remnant,"  said  the  woman.  "Three  and  twenty  of  my  sons 
has  Yspadaden  Penkawr  slain,  and  I  have  no  more  hope  of  this 
one  than  of  the  others."  Then  said  Kay,  "Let  him  come  and 
be  a  companion  with  me,  and  he  shall  not  be  slain  unless  I  also 
am  slain  with  him."  And  they  ate.  And  the  woman  asked 
them,  "  Upon  what  errand  come  you  here?"  "We  come  to 
seek  Olwen  for  this  youth."  Then  said  the  woman,  "  In  the 
name  of  Heaven,  since  no  one  from  the  castle  hath  yet  seen  you. 


302  THE  MABINOQEON. 

return  again  whence  you  came."  "  Heaven  is  our  witness  that 
we  will  not  return  until  we  have  seen  the  maiden.  Does  she 
ever  come  hither,  so  that  she  may  be  seen  ?"  ' '  She  comes 
here  every  Saturday  to  wash  her  head,  and  in  the  vessel  where 
she  washes  she  leaves  all  her  rings,  and  she  never  either  comes 
herself  or  sends  any  messengers  to  fetch  them."  **  Will  she 
come  here  if  she  is  sent  to?"  *'  Heaven  knows  that  I  will  not 
destroy  my  soul,  nor  will  I  betray  those  that  trust  me ;  unless 
^you  will  pledge  me  your  faith  that  you  will  not  harm  her,  I  will 
not  send  to  her."  ''We  pledge  it,"  said  they.  So  a  message 
was  sent,  and  she  came. 

The  maiden  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  flame-colored  silk,  and 
about  her  neck  was  a  collar  of  ruddy  gold,  on  which  were  pre- 
cious emeralds  and  rubies.  More  yellow  was  her  head  than  the 
flower  of  the  broom,  ^  and  her  skin  was  whiter  than  the  foam  of 
the  wave,  and  fairer  were  her  hands  and  her  fingers  than  the 
blossoms  of  the  wood-anemone  amidst  the  spray  of  the  meadow 
fountain.  The  eye  of  the  trained  hawk  was  not  brighter  than 
hers.  Her  bosom  was  more  snowy  than  the  breast  of  the  white 
swan,  her  cheek  was  redder  than  the  reddest  roses.  Whoso  be- 
held her  was  filled  with  her  love.  Four  white  trefoils  sprung 
up  wherever  she  trod.     And  therefore  was  she  called  Olwen. 

She  entered  the  house  and  sat  beside  Kilwich  upon  the  fore- 
most bench  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  he  knew  her.  And  Kil- 
wich said  unto  her,  ''Ah  !  maiden,  thou  art  she  whom  I  have 
loved ;  come  away  with  me,  lest  they  speak  evil  of  thee  and  of 
me.  Many  a  day  have  I  loved  thee."  "  I  cannot  do  this,  for 
I  have  pledged  my  faith  to  my  father  not  to  go  without  his 
counsel,  for  his  life  will  last  only  until  the  time  of  my  espousal. 
Whatever  is  to  be,  must  be.  But  I  will  give  thee  advice,  if 
thou  wilt  take  it.  Go,  ask  me  of  my  father,  and  that  which  he 
shall  require  of  thee,  grant  it,  and  thou  wilt  obtain  me  ;  but  if 
thou  deny  him  anything,  thou  wilt  not  obtain  me,  and  it  will  be 

1  The  romancers  dwell  wiih  great  complacency  on  the  fair  hair  and  delicate 
complexion  of  their  heroines.  This  taste  continued  for  a  long  time,  and  to 
render  the  hair  light  was  an  object  of  education.  Even  when  wigs  came  into 
fashion  they  were  all  flaxen.  Such  was  the  color  of  the  hair  of  the  Gauls  and 
of  their  German  conquerors.  It  required  some  centuries  to  reconcile  their  eyes 
to  the  swarthy  beauties  of  their  Spanish  and  Italian  neighbors. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN,  303 

well  for  thee  if  thou  escape  with  thy  life."  ''I  promise  all  this, 
if  occasion  offer,"  said  he. 

She  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  they  all  rose  up,  and  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  castle.  And  they  slew  the  nine  porters,  that 
were  at  the  nine  gates,  in  silence.  And  they  slew  the  nine 
watch-dogs  without  one  of  them  barking.  And  they  went  for- 
ward to  the  hall. 

'*  The  greeting  of  Heaven  and  of  man  be  unto  thee,  Yspada- 
den  Penkawr,"  said  they.  "And  you,  wherefore  come  you?" 
**We  come  to  ask  thy  daughter  Olwen  for  Kilwich,  the  son  of 
Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon."  ''Where  are  my  pages 
and  my  servants?  Haise  up  the  forks  beneath  my  two  eyebrows, 
which  have  fallen  over  my  eyes,  that  I  may  see  the  fashion  of 
my  son-in-law."  And  they  did  so.  "  Come  hither  to-morrow, 
and  you  shall  have  an  answer. ' ' 

They  rose  to  go  forth,  and  Yspadaden  Penkawr  seized  one  of 
the  three  poisoned  darts  that  lay  beside  him,  and  threw  it  after 
them.  And  Bedwyr  caught  it,  and  flung  it,  and  pierced  Yspa- 
daden Penkawr  grievously  with  it  through  the  knee.  Then  he 
said,  "  A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly  !  I  shall  ever  walk 
the  worse  for  his  rudeness,  and  shall  ever  be  without  a  cure. 
This  poisoned  iron  pains  me  like  the  bite  of  a  gad  fly.  Cursed 
be  the  smith  who  forged  it,  and  the  anvil  on  which  it  was 
wrought  !     So  sharp  is  it !" 

That  night  also  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  house  of  the 
herdsman.  The  next  day,  with  the  dawn,  they  arrayed  them- 
selves and  proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  entered  the  hall,  and 
they  said,  "Yspadaden  Benkawr,  give  us  thy  daughter  in  con- 
sideration of  her  dower  and  her  maiden  fee,  which  we  will  pay 
to  thee,  and  to  her  two  kinswomen  likewise."  Then  he  said, 
"  Her  four  great-grandmothers  and  her  four  great-grandsires  are 
yet  alive ;  it  is  needful  that  I  take  counsel  of  them."  "Be  it 
so,"  they  answered,  "we  will  go  to  meat."  As  they  rose  up 
he  took  the  second  dart  that  was  beside  him,  and  cast  it  after 
them.  And  Meneu,  the  son  of  Gawedd,  caught  it,  and  flung  it 
back  at  him,  and  wounded  him  in  the  centre  of  the  breast.  "  A 
cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly!"  said  he;  "the  hard  iron 
pains  me  like  the  bite  of  a  horse-leech.  Cursed  be  the  hearth 
whereon  it  was  heated,  and  the  smith  who  formed  it  !     So  sharp 


304  THE  MABINOGEON. 

is  it !  Henceforth,  whenever  I  go  up  hill,  I  shall  have  a  scant  in 
my  breath,  and  a  pain  in  my  chest,  and  I  shall  ot'ten  loathe 
my  food."     And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  third  day  they  returned  to  the  palace.  And  Yspa- 
daden  Penkavvr  said  to  them,  *' Shoot  not  at  me  again  unless 
you  desire  death.  Where  are  my  attendants  ?  Lift  up  the  forks 
of  my  eyebrows,  which  have  fallen  over  my  eyeballs,  that  I  may 
see  the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law."  Then  they  arose,  and,  as 
they  did  so,  Yspadaden  Penkawr  took  the  third  poisoned  dart 
and  cast  it  at  them.  And  Kilwich  caught  it,  and  threw  it 
vigorously,  and  wounded  him  through  the  eyeball.  **A 
cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly  !  As  long  as  I  remain 
alive,  my  eye-sight  will  be  the  worse.  Whenever  I  go 
against  the  wind,  my  eyes  will  water;  and  peradventure  my 
head  will  burn,  and  I  shall  have  a  giddiness  every  new  moon. 
Like  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  is  the  stroke  of  this  poisoned  iron. 
Cursed  be  the  fire  in  which  it  was  forged!"  And  they  went 
to  meat. 

And  the  next  day  they  came  again  to  the  palace,  and  they 
said,  "  Shoot  not  at  us  any  more,  unless  thou  desirest  such  hurt 
and  harm  and  torture  as  thou  now  hast,  and  even  more."  Said 
Kilwich,  "  Give  me  thy  daughter  ;  and  if  thou  wilt  not  give  her, 
thou  shalt  receive  thy  death  because  of  her."  "  Where  is  he 
that  seeks  my  daughter?  Come  hither  where  I  may  see  thee." 
And  they  placed  him  a  chair  face  to  face  with  him. 

Then  said  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  ''Is  it  thou  that  seekest  my 
daughter  ?' ' 

"  It  is  I,"  answered  Kilwich. 

"  I  must  have  thy  pledge  that  thou  wilt  not  do  toward  me 
otherwise  than  is  just;  and  when  I ^ have  gotten  that  which  I 
shall  name,  my  daughter  thou  shalt  have." 

'*  I  promise  thee  that,  willingly,"  said  Kilwich  ;  ''name  what 
thou  wilt. ' ' 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "  Seest  thou  yonder  red  tilled 
ground  ?' ' 

"I  see  it." 

"When  first  I  met  the  mother  of  this  maiden,  nine  bushels 
of  flax  were  sown  therein,  and  none  has  yet  sprung  up,  white 
nor  black.     I  require  to  have  the  flax  to  sow  in  the  new  land 


RILWICH  AND  OLWEK  305 

yonder,  that  when  it  grows  up  it   may  make  a  white  wimple  for 
my  daughter's  head  on  the  day  of  thy  wedding." 

''  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  mayest 
think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

''Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get — the  harp  of  Teirtu,  to  play  to  us  that  night.  When  a  man 
desires  that  it  should  play,  it  does  so  of  itself;  and  when  he 
desires  that  it  should  cease,  it  ceases.  And  this  he  will  not  give 
of  his  own  free  will,  and  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to  compel  him." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  mayest 
think  that  it  will  not  be  easy." 

''Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get.  I  require  thee  to  get  me  for  my  huntsman  Mabon,  the  son 
of  Modron.  He  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  three  nights 
old,  and  it  is  not  known  where  he  now  is,  nor  whether  he  is 
hving  or  dead." 

' '  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  mayest 
think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt 
not  get, — the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi ;  no  leash 
in  the  world  will  hold  them  but  a  leash  made  from  the  beard 
of  Dillus  Varwawc,  the  robber.  And  the  leash  will  be  of  no 
avail  unless  it  be  plucked  from  his  beard  while  he  is  alive. 
While  he  lives,  he  will  not  suffer  this  to  be  done  to  him,  and 
the  leash  will  be  of  no  use  should  he  be  dead,  because  it  will  be 
brittle." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  mayest 
think  it  will  not  be  easy. ' ' 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get, — the  sword  of  Gwernach  the  Giant;  of  his  own  free  will 
he  will  not  give  it,  and    thou  wilt   never   be   able  to  compel' 
him." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  mayest 
think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get.  Difficulties  shalt  thou  meet  with,  and  nights  without  sleep, 
in  seeking  this,  and  if  thou  obtain  it  not,  neither  shalt  thou  ob- 
tain my  daughter. ' ' 

"Horses  shall  I  have,  and  chivalry;  and  my  lord  and  kins- 


3o6 


THE  MABINOGEON. 


man,  Arthur,  will  obtain  for  me  all  these  things.     And  I  shall 
gain  thy  daughter,  and  thou  shalt  lose  thy  life." 

**  Go  forward.  And  thou  shalt  not  be  chargeable  for  food  oi 
raiment  for  my  daughter  while  thou  art  seeking  these  things  ;  and 
when  thou  hast  compassed  all  these  marvels,  thou  shalt  have  my 
daughter  for  thy  wife. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Kirwich  and  Ol'wen  (Continued) — The  Salmon. 


All  that  day  they  journeyed  until  the  evening,  and  then  they 
beheld  a  vast  castle,  which  was  the  largest  in  the  world.  And 
lo  !  a  black  knight  mounted  upon  a  black  horse  came  out  from 
the  castle.  And  they  spoke  unto  him,  and  said,  '*0  man, 
whose  castle  is  that?"  **  Stupid  are  ye,  truly,  O  men  !  There 
is  no  one  in  the  world  that  does  not  know  that  this  is  the  castle 
of  Gwernach  the  Giant."  *'  What  treatment  is  there  for  guests 
and  strangers  that  alight  in  that  castle?"  "  O  chieftain,  Heaven 
protect  thee  !  No  guest  ever  returned  thence  alive,  and  no  one 
may  enter  therein  unless  he  brings  with  him  his  craft." 

Then  they  proceeded  towards  the  gate.  Said  Gurhyr  Gwal- 
stat,  *'Is  there  a  porter?"  "There  is;  wherefore  dost  thou 
call?"  "  Open  the  gate. "  "  I  will  not  open  it."  ''Where- 
fore wilt  thou  not?"  "  The  knife  is  in  the  meat,  and  the  drink 
is  in  the  horn,  and  there  is  revelry  in  the  hall  of  Gwernach  the 
Giant ;  and  except  for  a  craftsman  who  brings  his  craft,  the  gate 
will  not  be  opened  to-night."  "Verily,  porter,"  then  said 
Kay,  "my  craft  bring  I  with  me."  "What  is  thy  craft?" 
"The  best  burnisher  of  swords  am  I  in  the  world."  "I  will 
go  and  tell  this  unto  Gwernach  the  Giant,  and  I  will  bring  thee 
an  answer. ' ' 

So  the  porter  went  in,  and  Gwernach  said  to  him,  "  Hast  thou 
news  from  the  gate?"  "  I  have.  There  is  a  party  at  the  door 
of  the  gate  who  desire  to  come  in."      "  Didst  thou  inquire  of 

(307  ) 


3o8  THE  MABINOGEOK 

them  if  they  possessed  any  art?"  **I  did  inquire,"  said  he, 
"and  one  told  me  that  he  was  well  skilled  in  the  burnishing  of 
swords."  *'We  have  need  of  him  then.  For  some  time 
have  I  sought  for  some  one  to  polish  my  sword,  and  could 
find  no  one.  Let  this  man  enter,  since  he  brings  with  him  his 
craft." 

The  porter  thereupon  returned  and  opened  the  gate.  And 
Kay  went  in  by  himself,  and  he  saluted  Gwemach  the  Giant. 
And  a  chair  was  placed  for  him  opposite  to  Gwernach.  And 
Gwernach  said  to  him,  "O  man,  is  it  true  that  is  reported  of 
thee,  that  thou  knowest  how  to  burnish  swords  ?"  '  ^  I  know  full 
well  how  to  do  so,"  answered  Kay.  Then  was  the  sword  of 
Gwernach  brought  to  him.  And  Kay  took  a  blue  whetstone  from 
under  his  arm,  and  asked  whether  he  would  have  it  burnished 
white  or  blue.  "  Do  with  it  as  it  seems  good  to  thee,  or  as  thou 
wouldst  if  it  were  thine  own."  Then  Kay  polished  one-half 
of  the  blade,  and  put  it  in  his  hand.  "  Will  this  please  thee?" 
asked  he.  '' I  would  rather  than  all  that  is  in  my  dominions 
that  the  whole  of  it  were  like  this.  It  is  a  marvel  to  me  that 
such  a  man  as  thou  should  be  without  a  companion."  "  O  noble 
sir,  I  have  a  companion,  albeit  he  is  not  skilled  in  this  art." 
"Who  may  he  be?"  "  Let  the  porter  go  forth,  and  I  will  tell 
him  whereby  he  may  know  him.  The  head  of  his  lance  will 
leave  its  shaft,  and  draw  blood  from  the  wind,  and  will  descend 
upon  its  shaft  again."  Then  the  gate  was  opened,  and  Bedwyr 
entered.  And  Kay  said,  "Bedwyr  is  very  skilful,  though  he 
knows  not  this  art. ' ' 

And  there  was  much  discourse  among  those  who  were  without, 
because  that  Kay  and  Bedwyr  had  gone  in.  And  a  young  man 
who  was  with  them,  the  only  son  of  the  herdsman,  got  in  also  ; 
and  he  contrived  to  admit  all  the  rest,  but  they  kept  themselves 
concealed. 

The  sword  was  now  polished,  and  Kay  gave  it  unto  the  hand 
of  Gwernach  the  Giant,  to  see  if  he  were  pleased  with  his  work. 
And  the  giant  said,  "The  work  is  good;  I  am  content  there- 
with."  Said  Kay,  "It  is  thy  scabbard  that  hath  rusted  thy 
sword ;  give  it  to  me,  that  I  may  take  out  the  wooden  sides  of 
it,  and  put  in  new  ones."  And  he  took  the  scabbard  from  him, 
and  the  sword  in  the  other  hand.     And  he  came  and  stood  over 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN ,  3O9 

against  the  giant,  as  if  he  would  have  put  the  sword  into  the 
scabbard  ;  and  with  it  he  struck  at  the  head  of  the  giant,  and 
cut  off  his  head  at  one  blow.  Then  they  despoiled  the  castle, 
and  took  from  it  what  goods  and  jewels  they  would.  And  they 
returned  to  Arthur's  court,  bearing  with  them  the  sword  of 
Gwernach  the  Giant, 

And  when  they  told  Arthur  how  they  had  sped,  Arthur  said, 
"It  is  a  good  beginning."  Then  they  took  counsel,  and  said, 
*'  Which  of  these  marvels  will  it  be  best  for  us  to  seek  next  ?" 
''It  will  be  best,"  said  one,  *'to  seek  Mabon,  the  son  of  Mo- 
dron  ;  and  he  will  not  be  found  unless  we  first  find  Eidoel,  the 
son  of  Aer,  his  kinsman."  Then  Arthur  rose  up,  and  the  war- 
riors of  the  island  of  Britain  with  him,  to  seek  for  Eidoel ;  and 
they  proceeded  until  they  came  to  the  castle  of  Glivi,  where 
Eidoel  was  imprisoned.  Glivi  stood  on  the  summit  of  his  castle, 
and  he  said,  ''  Arthur,  what  requirest  thou  of  me,  since  nothing 
remains  to  me  in  this  fortress,  and  I  have  neither  joy  nor  pleasure 
in  it,  neither  wheat  nor  oats?  Seek  not,  therefore,  to  do 
me  harm."  Said  Arthur,  ''  Not  to  injure  thee  came  I  hither, 
but  to  seek  for  the  prisoner  that  is  with  thee."  *'I  will  give 
thee  my  prisoner,  though  I  had  not  thought  to  give  him  up 
to  any  one,  and  therewith  shalt  thou  have  my  support  and  my 
aid." 

His  followers  said  unto  Arthur,  ''Lord,  go  thou  home,  thou 
canst  not  proceed  with  thy  host  in  quest  of  such  small  adventures 
as  these."  Then  said  Arthur,  "  It  were  well  for  thee,  Gurhyr 
Gwalstat,  to  go  upon  this  quest,  for  thou  knowest  all  languages, 
and  art  familiar  with  those  of  the  birds  and  the  beasts.  Thou, 
Eidoel,  oughtest  likewise  to  go  with  thy  men  in  search  of  thy 
cousin.  And  as  for  you,  Kay  and  Bedwyr,  I  have  hope  of  what- 
ever adventure  ye  are  in  quest  of,  that  ye  will  achieve  it. 
Achieve  ye  this  adventure  for  me. ' ' 

They  went  forward  until  they  came  to  the  Ousel  of  Cilgwri. 
And  Gurhyr  adjured  her,  saying,  "Tell  me  if  thou  knowest 
aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  when  three 
nights  old  from  between  his  mother  and  the  wall  ?' '  And  the 
Ousel  answered,  "When  I  first  came  here,  there  was  a  smith's 
anvil  in  this  place,  and  I  was  then  a  young  bird  ;  and  from  that 
time  no  work  has  been  done  upon  it,  save  the  pecking  of  my 


3  lO  THE  MABINOOEOK 

beak  every  evening ;  and  now  there  is  not  so  much  as  the  size 
of  a  nut  remaining  thereof;  yet  during  all  that  time  I  have  never 
heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire.  Nevertheless,  I  will 
do  that  which  it  is  fitting  that  I  should  for  an  embassy  from 
Arthur.  There  is  a  race  of  animals  who  were  formed  before 
me,  and  I  will  be  your  guide  to  them." 

So  they  proceeded  to  the  place  where  was  the  Stag  of  Redynvre. 
**Stag  of  Redynvre,  behold,  we  are  come  to  thee,  an  embassy 
from  Arthur,  for  we  have  not  heard  of  any  animal  older  than 
thou.  Say,  knowest  thou  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron, 
who  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  three  nights  old  ?' '  The 
Stag  said,  *'  When  first  I  came  hither  there  was  a  plain  all  around 
me,  without  any  trees  save  one  oak  sapling,  which  grew  up  to  be 
an  oak  with  an  hundred  branches  ;  and  that  oak  has  since  per- 
ished, so  that  now  nothing  remains  of  it  but  the  withered  stump  ; 
and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have  been  here,  yet  have  I  never 
heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire.  Nevertheless,  being 
an  embassy  from  Arthur,  I  will  be  your  guide  to  the  place  where 
there  is  an  animal  which  was  formed  before  I  was,  and  the  oldest 
animal  in  the  world,  and  the  one  that  has  travelled  most,  the 
Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy. ' ' 

Gurhyr  said,  ' '  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy,  we  have  come  to  thee, 
an  embassy  from  Arthur,  to  ask  thee  if  thou  knowest  aught  of 
Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  from  his  mother 
when  he  was  three  nights  old  ?' '  The  Eagle  said,  **  I  have  been 
here  for  a  great  space  of  time,  and  when  I  first  came  hither, 
there  was  a  rock  here  from  the  top  of  which  I  pecked  at  the 
stars  every  evening ;  and  it  has  crumbled  away,  and  now  it 
is  not  so  much  as  a  span  high.  All  that  time  I  have  been 
here,  and  I  have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  in- 
quire, except  once  when  I  went  in  seach  of  food  as  far  as 
Llyn  Llyw.  And  when  I  came  there,  I  struck  my  talons  into 
a  salmon,  thinking  he  would  serve  me  as  food  for  a  long 
time.  But  he  drew  me  into  the  water,  and  I  was  scarcely 
able  to  escape  from  him.  After  that  I  made  peace  with  him. 
And  I  drew  fifty  fish -spears  out  of  his  back,  and  relieved 
him.  Unless  he  know  something  of  him  whom  you  seek,  I 
cannot  tell  who  may.  However,  I  will  guide  you  to  the  place 
where  he  is." 


THE  SALMON,  311 

The  Salmon. 

So  they  went  thither;  and  the  Eagle  said,  **  Salmon  of  Llyn 
Llyw,  I  have  come  to  thee  with  an  embasay  from  Arthur,  to  ask 
thee  if  thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who 
was  taken  away  at  three  nights  old  from  his  mother. "  '  *  As 
much  as  I  know  I  will  tell  thee.  With  every  tide  I  go  along  the 
river  upward,  until  I  come  near  to  the  walls  of  Gloucester,  and 
there  have  I  found  such  wrong  as  I  never  found  elsewhere  ;  and 
to  the  end  that  ye  may  give  credence  thereto,  let  one  of  you  go 
thither  upon  each  of  my  two  shoulders. ' '  So  Kay  and  Gurhyr 
Gwalstat  went  upon  the  two  shoulders  of  the  Salmon,  and  they 
proceeded  until  they  came  unto  the  Avail  of  the  prison ;  and  they 
heard  a  great  wailing  and  lamenting  from  the  dungeon.  Said 
Gurhyr,  *'Who  is  it  that  laments  in  this  house  of  stone?" 
**Alas!  it  is  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  is  here  impris- 
oned; and  no  imprisonment  was  ever  so  grievous  as  mine." 
**  Hast  thou  hope  of  being  released  for  gold  or  for  silver,  or  for 
any  gifts  of  wealth,  or  through  battle  and  fighting?"  "By 
fighting  will  whatever  I  may  gain  be  obtained." 

Then  they  went  thence,  and  returned  to  Arthur,  and  they  told 
him  where  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  was  imprisoned.  And 
Arthur  summoned  the  warriors  of  the  island,  and  they  journeyed 
as  far  as  Gloucester,  to  the  place  where  Mabon  was  in  prison. 
Kay  and  Bedwyr  went  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  fish,  whilst  the 
warriors  of  Arthur  attacked  the  castle.  And  Kay  broke  through 
the  wall  into  the  dungeon,  and  brought  away  the  prisoner  upon 
his  back,  whilst  the  fight  was  going  on  between  the  warriors. 
And  Arthur  returned  home,  and  Mabon  with  him  at  liberty. 

On  a  certain  day,  as  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  was  walking  over  a 
mountain,  he  heard  a  wailing  and  a  grievous  cry.  And  when 
he  heard  it,  he  sprung  forward  and  went  towards  it.  And  when 
he  came  there,  he  saw  a  fire  burning  among  the  turf,  and  an  ant- 
hill nearly  surrounded  with  the  fire.  And  he  drew  his  sword, 
and  smote  off  the  ant-hill  close  to  the  earth,  so  that  it  escaped 
being  burned  in  the  fire.  And  the  ants  said  to  him,  "  Receive 
from  us  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  and  that  which  no  man  can  give 
we  will  give  thee."  Then  they  fetched  the  nine  bushels  of  flax- 
seed which  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had  required  of  Kilwich,  and 
they  brought    the    full    measure,   without    lacking   any,    except 


3  I  2  THE  MABINOGEON. 

one  flax-seed,  and  that  the  lame  pismire  brought  in  before 
night. 

Then  said  Arthur,  '<  Which  of  the  marvels  will  it  be  best  for 
us  to  seek  next?"  ''  It  will  be  best  to  seek  for  the  two  cubs  of 
the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi." 

**Is  it  known,"  said  Arthur,  **where  she  is?"  ''She  is  in 
lAber  Cleddyf,"  said  one.  Then  Arthur  went  to  the  house  of 
Tringad,  in  Aber  Cleddyf,  and  he  inquired  of  him  whether  he 
had  heard  of  her  there.  ''  She  has  often  slain  my  herds,  and  she 
is  there  below  in  a  cave  in  Aber  Cleddyf." 

Then  Arthur  went  in  his  ship  Prydwen  by  sea,  and  the  others 
went  by  land  to  hunt  her.  And  they  surrounded  her  and  her  two 
cubs,  and  took  them,  and  carried  them  away. 

As  Kay  and  Bedwyr  sat  on  a  beacon-cairn  on  the  summit  of 
Plinlimmon,  in  the  highest  wind  that  ever  was,  they  looked 
around  them  and  saw  a  great  smoke  afar  off.  Then  said  Kay, 
''By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  yonder  is  the  fire  of  a  robber." 
Then  they  hastened  towards  the  smoke,  and  they  came  so  near 
to  it  that  they  could  see  Dillus  Varwawc  scorching  a  wild  boar- 
"Behold,  yonder  is  the  greatest  robber  that  ever  fled  from  Ar- 
thur," said  Bedwyr  to  Kay.  "  Dost  thou  know  him?"  "  I  do 
know  him,"  answered  Kay;  "he  is  Dillus  Varwawc,  and  no 
leash  in  the  world  will  be  able  to  hold  the  cubs  of  Gast  Rhymhi 
save  a  leash  made  from  the  beard  of  him  thou  seest  yonder. 
And  even  that  will  be  useless  unless  his  beard  be  plucked  out 
alive  with  wooden  tweezers;  for  if  dead  it  will  be  brittle." 
"What  thinkest  thou  that  we  should  do  concerning  this?"  said 
Bedwyr.  "Let  us  suffer  him,"  said  Kay,  "to  eat  as  much  as 
he  will  of  the  meat,  and  after  that  he  will  fall  asleep."  And 
during  that  time  they  employed  themselves  in  making  the  wooden 
tweezers.  And  when  Kay  knew  certainly  that  he  was  asleep,  he 
made  a  pit  under  his  feet,  and  he  struck  him  a  violent  blow,  and 
squeezed  him  into  the  pit.  And  there  they  twitched  out  his 
beard  completely  with  the  wooden  tweezers,  and  after  that  they 
slew  him  altogether.  And  from  thence  they  went,  and  took  the 
leash  made  of  Dillus  Varwawc' s  beard,  and  they  gave  it  into 
Arthur's  hand. 

Thus  they  got  all  the  marvels  that  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had 
required  of  Kilwich ;  and  they  set  forward,  and  took  the  mar- 


THE  SALMON. 


313 


vels  to  his  court.  And  Kilwich  said  to  Yspadaden  Penkawr, 
*'  Is  thy  daughter  mine  now?"  *'  She  is  thine,"  said  he,  ''but 
therefore  needest  thou  not  thank  me,  but  Arthur,  who  hath  ac- 
complished this  for  thee."  Then  Goreu,  the  son  of  Custennin, 
the  herdsman,  whose  brothers  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had  slain, 
seized  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  dragged  him  after  him 
to  the  keep,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  placed  it  on  a  stake  on 
the  citadel.  Then  they  took  possession  of  his  castle,  and  of  his 
treasures.  And  that  night  Olwen  became  Kilwich' s  bride,  and 
she  continued  to  be  his  wife  as  long  as  she  lived. 


THE  AGE  OF  CHIVALRY. 


PART  HI. 
LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 


(31S) 


Jk  ')r)f/-f  4»  f  vif^fj/iimftt,. 


LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY, 


CHAPTER  I. 


Authorship,  of  Ossian — History  of  the  Controversy- 

Fingal — Cuchullin — The  Landing  of  Swaran — The 

Council  of  the  Chiefs — Council  Advises  Retreat 

— Cuchullin  Decides  to  Attack — Deaths  of 

Duchomar    and    Cathbat — Cuchullin's 

Chariot— The    Battle— Cuchullin's 

Feast— The    Story   of    Grudar 

and  Brassolis. 


Os'sian — Fin'gal. 

Ossian  was  a  Celtic  bard  who  is  supposed  to  have  lived  in  the 
second  or  possibly  the  third  century.  His  father  was  Fingal,  a 
name  famous  in  the  ancient  annals  of  both  Scotland  and  Ireland. 
The  original  language  of  these  people,  from  long  disuse,  became 
almost  obsolete,  and  was  only  preserved  through  the  oral  traditions 
at  the  fireside.  Sometime  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century 
it  was  publicly  stated  by  a  Gaelic  scholar  that  there  still  re- 
mained in  the  old  Celtic  language  fragmentary  relics  of  the  most 
wonderful  writings  since  the  age  of  Homer. 

C317) 


3  1 8       LEGEND  A  R  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

A  few  years  later  Mr.  James  Macpherson,  a  gentleman  of 
classical  attainments  but  "of  the  most  ordinary  poetic  ability, 
issued  a  volume  of  poems  which  he  claimed  to  have  collected  in 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  This  gave  rise  to  one  of  the  most 
animated  discussions  in  the  history  of  literature. 

The  poems  at  once  took  rank  among  the  most  ancient  classics. 
They  were  translated  into  the  languages  of  Europe  and  read  with 
admiration  by  Goethe,  Schiller  and  Napoleon.  The  question 
was  as  to  their  authenticity.  Some  claimed,  and  among  them 
Dr.  Johnson,  that  they  were  the  composition  of  Mr.  Macpherson 
himself.  The  discussion  transcended  the  bounds  of  legitimate 
criticism  and  became  one  of  national  importance.  It  was  Lon- 
don against  Edinburgh.  Mr.  Macpherson,  being  a  man  of  dig- 
nity and  spirit,  naturally  resented  the  aspersions  cast  upon  his 
honor.  He  challenged  his  accusers  to  an  investigation,  which 
for  some  reason  they  declined.  The  question  long  remained  an 
open  one,  but  the  more  recent  critics  we  believe  generally  con- 
cede the  claim  of  antiquity  which  places  Ossian  among  the  first 
of  our  legendary  poets. 

The  longer  poems  are  supposed  to  occupy  a  day  each.  The 
day  was  usually  given  over  to  battle,  while  at  night  the  opposing 
chiefs  met  and  feasted.  A  bard  was  always  present,  who  sang  the 
glories  of  the  Celtic  wars.  Such  is  the  outline  of  Fingal,  the 
longest  and  best  known  of  the  entire  series. 

Fin'gal. 

CuchuUin  sat  by  Tura's  wall ;  by  the  tree  of  the  rustling  leaf. 
His  spear  leaned  against  the  mossy  rock.  His  shield  lay  by  him 
on  the  grass.  As  he  thought  of  mighty  Cairbar,'  a  hero  whom  he 
slew  in  war,  the  scout  of  the  ocean  came, — Moran,^  the  son  of 
Fithil. 

*'  Rise,"  said  the  youth,  "  CuchuUin,  rise  ;  I  see  the  ships  of 
Swaran.  CuchuUin,  many  are  the  foe  :  many  the  heroes  of  the 
dark-rolling  sea. ' ' 

'*  Moran  !"  replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  *'  thou  ever  tremblest, 
son  of  Fithil.    Thy  fears  have  much  increased  the  foe.     Perhaps 

1  Cairbar,  a  strong  man. 

^  Moran  signifies  many  ;  and  Fithil,  or  rather  Fili,  an  inferior  bard. 


FINQAL.  319 

it  is  the  king'  of  the  lonely  hills  coming  to  aid  me  on  green 
UUin's  plains." 

"  I  saw  their  chief,"  says  Moran,  "  tall  as  a  rock  of  ice.  His 
spear  is  like  that  blasted  fir.  His  shield  like  the  rising  moon. 
He  sat  on  a  rock  on  the  shore  ;  his  dark  host  rolled  like  clouds 
around  him.  Many,  chief  of  men  !  I  said,  many  are  our  hands 
of  war.  Well  art  thou  named  the  Mighty  Man,  but  many 
mighty  men  are  seen  from  Tura's  windy  walls. 

''  He  answered,  like  a  wave  on  a  rock,  *  Who  in  this  land  ap- 
pears like  me  ?  Heroes  stand  not  in  my  presence ;  they  fall  to 
earth  beneath  my  hand.  None  can  meet  Swaran  in  the  fight  but 
Fingal,  king  of  stormy  hills.  Once  we  wrestled  on  the  heath  of 
Malmor,2  and  our  heels  overturned  the  wood.  Rocks  fell  from 
their  place  ;  and  rivulets,  changing  their  course,  fled  murmuring 
from  our  strife.  Three  days  we  renewed  our  strife,  and  heroes 
stood  at  a  distance  and  trembled.  On  the  fourth,  Fingal  says 
that  the  king  of  the  ocean  fell ;  but  Swaran  says  he  stood.  Let 
dark  CuchuUin  yield  to  him  that  is  strong  as  the  storms  of 
Malmor.'  " 

''No!"  replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  ''I  will  never  yield  to 
man  !  Dark  Cuchullin  shall  be  great  or  dead  !  Go,  Fithil's 
son,  and  take  my  spear.  Strike  the  sounding  shield  of  Cabait.^ 
It  hangs  at  Tura's  rustling  gate;  the  sound  of  peace  is  not  its 
voice.     My  heroes  shall  hear  on  the  hill." 

He  went  and  struck  the  bossy  shield.  The  hills  and  their 
rocks  replied.  The  sound  spread  along  the  wood  ;  deer  start  by 
the  lake  of  roes.     Curach*  leapt  from  the  sounding  rock ;  and 

1  Fingal  the  son  of  Comhal  and  Morna  the  daughter  of  Thaddu.  His 
grandfather  was  Trathal,  and  great-grandfather  Trenraor,  both  of  whom  are 
often  mentioned  in  the  poem.  Trenmor,  according  to  tradition,  had  two  sons  ; 
Trathal,  who  succeeded  him  in  the  kingdom  of  Morven,  and  Connar,  called 
by  the  bards  Conar  the  Great,  who  was  elected  king  of  all  Ireland,  and  was 
the  ance  tor  of  that  Cormac  who  sat  on  the  Irish  throne  when  the  invasion  of 
Swaran  happened. 

2  Meal-m6r,  a  great  hill. 

^  Cabait,  or  rather  Cathbait,  grandfather  to  the  hero,  was  so  remarkable  for 
his  valor  that  his  shield  was  made  use  of  to  alarm  his  posterity  to  the  battles 
of  the  family.  We  find  Fingal  making  the  same  use  of  his  own  shield.  A 
horn  was  the  most  common  instrument  to  call  the  army  together,  before  the 
invention  of  bagpipes. 

*  Cu-raoch  signifies  the  madness  of  battle. 


320      LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

Connal  of  the  bloody  spear.  Cmgal's  breast  of  snow  beats 
high.  The  son  of  Favi  leaves  the  dark-brown  hind.  It  is  the 
shield  of  war,  said  Ronnar  !  the  spear  of  Cuchullin,  said  Lugar  ! 
son  of  the  sea  put  on  thy  arms  !  Calmar  lift  thy  sounding  steel ! 
Puno  !  dreadful  hero,  rise  !  Cairbar  from  thy  red  tree  of  Cromla  ! 
Bend  thy  white  knee,  O  Eth  !  and  descend  from  the  streams  of 
Lena.  Caolt,  stretch  thy  white  side  as  thou  movest  along  the 
whistling  heath  of  Mora :  thy  side  that  is  white  as  the  foam  of 
the  troubled  sea,  when  the  dark  winds  pour  it  on  the  murmuring 
rocks  of  Cuthon.^ 

Now  I  behold  the  chiefs,  in  the  pride  of  their  former  deeds ! 
Their  souls  are  kindled  at  the  battles  of  old ;  and  the  actions  of 
other  times.  Their  eyes  are  like  flames  of  fire,  and  roll  in 
search  of  the  foes  of  the  land.  Their  mighty  hands  are  on 
their  swords ;  and  lightning  pours  from  their  sides  of  steel. 
They  come  like  streams  from  the  mountains ;  each  rushes  roar- 
ing from  his  hill.  Bright  are  the  chiefs  of  battle,  in  the  armor 
of  their  fathers.  Gloomy  and  dark  their  heroes  follow,  like  the 
gathering  of  the  rainy  clouds  behind  the  red  meteors  of  heaven. 
The  sounds  of  crashing  arms  ascend.  The  gray  dogs  howl  be- 
tween. Unequally  bursts  the  song  of  battle ;  and  rocking 
Cromla"'*  echoes  round.  On  Lena's  dusky  heath  they  stand,  like 
mist  that  shades  the  hills  of  autumn  :  when  broken  and  dark  it 
settles  high,  and  lifts  its  head  to  heaven  ! 

'*Hail,"  said  Cuchullin,  ''sons  of  the  narrow  vales!  hail, 
ye  hunters  of  the  deer  !  Another  sport  is  drawing  near :  It  is 
like  the  dark  rolling  of  that  wave  on  the  coast !  Shall  we  fight, 
ye  sons  of  war  !  or  yield  green  InnisfaiP  to  Lochlin?  O  Con- 
nal* speak,  thou  first  of  men  !  thou  breaker  of  the  shields  1  thou 
hast  often  fought  with  Lochlin:  wilt  thou  lift  thy  father' i 
spear  ?' ' 

*' Cuchullin  !"  calm  the  chief  replied,  ''the  spear  of  Connal 

^  Cu-th6n,  the  mournful  sound  of  waves. 

2  Crom-leach  signified  a  place  of  worship  among  the  Druids.  It  is  here 
the  proper  name  of  a  hill  on  the  coast  of  Ullin  or  Ulster. 

3  Ireland,  so-called  from  a  colony  that  settled  there  called  Falans.  Innis- 
fjil,  /.  e.y  the  island  of  the  P'a-il  or  Falans. 

*  Connal,  the  friend  of  Cuchullin,  was  the  son  of  Cathbait,  prince  of  Ton 
gomia,  or  the  island  of  blue  waves,  probably  one  of  the  Hebrides. 


FINGAL.  321 

is  keen.  It  delights  to  shine  in  battle,  and  to  mix  with  the 
blood  of  thousands.  But  though  my  hand  is  bent  on  war,  my 
heart  is  for  the  peace  of  Erin.^  Behold,  thou  first  in  Cormac's 
war,  the  sable  fleet  of  Swaran.  His  masts  are  as  numerous  on 
our  coast  as  reeds  in  the  lake  of  Lego.  His  ships  are  like 
forests  clothed  with  mist,  when  the  trees  yield  by  turns  to  the 
squally  wind.  Many  are  his  chiefs  in  battle.  Connal  is  for 
peace  !  Fingal  would  shun  his  arm  the  first  of  mortal  men  ! 
Fingal  who  scatters  the  mighty,  as  stormy  winds  the  heath ; 
when  the  streams  roar  through  echoing  Cona,  and  night  settles 
with  all  her  clouds  on  the  hill !" 

*'Fly,  thou  chief  of  peace,"  said  Calmar,^  the  sonof  Matha; 
^'  fly,  Connal,  to  thy  silent  hills,  where  the  spear  of  battle  never 
shone  !  Pursue  the  dark-brown  deer  of  Cromla,  and  stop  with 
thine  arrows  the  bounding  roes  of  Lena.  But,  blue-eyed  son 
of  Semo,  Cuchullin,  ruler  of  the  war,  scatter  thou  the  sons  of 
Lochlin  !^  and  roar  through  the  ranks  of  their  pride.  Let  no 
vessel  of  the  kingdom  of  Snow  bound  on  the  dark-rolling  waves 
of  Inistore.*  O  ye  dark  winds  of  Erin  rise  !  roar  ye  whirlwinds 
of  the  heath  !  Amidst  the  tempest  let  me  die,  torn  in  a  cloud 
by  angry  ghosts  of  men ;  amidst  the  tempest  let  Calmar  die, 
if  ever  chase  was  sport  to  him,  so  much  as  the  battle  of 
shields!" 

' 'Calmar!"  slow  replied  the  chief,  ''I  never  fled,  O  son  of 
Matha  !  I  was  swift  with  my  friends  in  battle  ;  but  small  is  the 
fame  of  Connal  !  The  battle  was  won  in  my  presence ;  and 
the  valiant  overcame  !  But,  son  of  Semo,  hear  my  voice, 
regard  the  ancient  throne  of  Cormac.  Give  wealth  and  half 
the  land  for  peace,  till  Fingal  come  with  battle.  Or,  if  war  be 
thy  choice,  I  lift  the  sword  and  spear.  My  joy  shall  be  in  the 
midst  of  thousands,  and  my  soul  brighten  in  the  gloom  of  the 
fight!" 

1  Erin,  a  name  of  Ireland;  from  ear  or  iar,  west,  and  in,  an  island.  This 
name  was  not  always  confined  to  Ireland,  for  there  is  the  highest  probability 
that  the  /erne  of  the  ancients  was  Britain  to  the  north  of  the  Forth.  For 
I  erne  is  said  to  be  to  the  north  of  Britain,  which  could  not  be  meant  of  Ire- 
land. ^  Calm-er,  a  strong  man. 

3  The  Galic  name  of  Scandinavia  in  general  ;  in  a  more  confined  sense,  that 
of  the  peninsula  of  Jutland. 

*  Inistore,  the  island  of  whales,  the  ancient  name  of  the  Orkney  islands. 


322      LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

''To  me,"  CuchuUin  replies,  ''  pleasant  is  the  noise  of  arms  ! 
pleasant  as  the  thunder  of  heaven  before  the  shower  of  spring  ! 
But  gather  all  the  shining  tribes,  that  I  may  view  the  sons  of 
war !  Let  them  move  along  the  heath,  bright  as  the  sunshine 
before  a  storm  ;  when  the  west  wind  collects  the  clouds,  and  the 
oaks  of  Morven  echo  along  the  shore. 

''But  where  are  my  friends  in  battle?  the  companions  of 
my  arm  in  danger?  Where  art  thou,  white-bosomed  Cathbat? 
Where  is  that  cloud  in  war,  Duchomar?^  And  hast  thou  left 
me,  O  Fergus  !  in  the  day  of  the  storm  ?  Fergus,  first  in  our 
joy  at  the  feast !  son  of  Rossa  !  arm  of  death  !  comest  thou  like 
a  roe  from  Malmor?  Like  a  hart  from  the  echoing  hills? 
Hail,  thou  son  of  Rossa  !     What  shades  the  soul  of  war  ?' ' 

"Four  stones,"^  replied  the  chief,  "rise  on  the  grave  of 
Cathbat !  These  hands  have  laid  in  earth  Duchomar,  that 
cloud  in  war  !  Cathbat,  son  of  Torman  !  thou  wert  a  sunbeam 
on  the  hill.  And  thou,  O  valiant  Duchomar,  like  the  mist  of 
marshy  Lano ;  when  it  falls  over  the  plains  of  autumn  and 
brings  death  to  the  people.  Morna,  fairest  of  maids  !  calm  is 
thy  sleep  in  the  cave  of  the  rock.  Thou  hast  fallen  in  darkness 
like  a  star,  that  shoots  across  the  desert,  when  the  traveller  is 
alone,  and  mourns  the  transient  beam. ' ' 

"Say,"  said  Semo's  blue-eyed  son,  "say  how  fell  the  chiefs 
of  Erin?  Fell  they  by  the  sons  of  Lochlin,  striving  in  the 
battle  of  heroes  ?  Or  what  confines  the  chiefs  of  Cromla  to  the 
dark  and  narrow  house  ?' ' 

"  Cathbat,"  replied  the  hero,  "  fell  by  the  sword  of  Duchomar 
at  the  oak  of  the  noisy  streams.  Duchomar  came  to  Tura's 
cave,  and  spoke  to  the  lovely  Morna : 

"  '  Morna,^  fairest  among  women,  lovely  daughter  of  Cormac- 

^  Duchomar,  a  black,  well-shaped  man. 

2  This  passage  alludes  to  the  manner  of  burial  among  the  ancient  Scots. 
They  opened  a  grave  six  or  eight  feet  deep  :  the  bottom  was  lined  with  fine 
clay  ;  and  on  this  they  laid  the  body  of  the  deceased,  and,  if  a  warrior,  his 
sword,  and  the  heads  of  twelve  arrows  by  his  side.  Above  they  laid  another 
stratum  of  clay,  in  which  they  placed  the  horn  of  a  deer,  the  symbol  of  hunt- 
ing. The  whole  was  covered  with  a  fine  mold,  and  four  stones  placed  on 
end  to  mark  the  extent  of  the  grave.  These  are  the  four  stones  alluded  to 
here. 

'  Muime,  or  Morna,  a  woman  beloved  by  all. 


FINGAL.  323 

cairbar.  Why  in  the  circle  of  stones  ;  in  the  cave  of  the  rock 
alone  ?  The  stream  murmurs  hoarsely.  The  old  trees  groan  in 
the  wind.  The  lake  is  troubled  before  thee,  and  dark  are  the 
clouds  of  the  sky.  But  thou  art  like  snow  on  the  heath ;  and 
thy  hair  like  the  mist  of  Cromla  when  it  curls  on  the  rocks, 
and  shines  to  the  beam  of  the  weft.  Thy  breasts  are  like  two 
smooth  rocks,  seen  from  Brano  of  the  streams ;  thy  arms  like 
two  white  pillars  in  the  halls  of  the  mighty  Fingal.' 

'''From  whence,'  the  white-armed  maid  replied,  'from 
whence,  Duchomar,  the  most  gloomy  of  men?  Dark  are  thy 
brows  and  terrible.  Red  are  thy  rolling  eyes.  Does  Swaran 
appear  on  the  sea  ?     What  of  the  foe,  Duchomar  ?' 

"  '  From  the  hill  I  return,  O  Morna,  from  the  hill  of  the  dark- 
brown  hinds.  Three  have  I  slain  with  my  bended  yew.  Three 
with  my  long-bounding  dogs  of  the  chase.  Lovely  daughter  of 
Cormac,  I  love  thee  as  my  soul.  I  have  slain  one  stately  deer 
for  thee.  High  was  his  branchy  head ;  and  fleet  his  feet  of 
wind. ' 

"  '  Duchomar  !'  calm  the  maid  replied,  '  I  love  thee  not,  thou 
gloomy  man  ;  hard  is  thy  heart  of  rock,  and  dark  thy  terrible 
brow.  But  Cathbat,  son  of  Torman,^  thou  art  the  love  of 
Morna.  Thou  art  like  a  sunbeam  on  the  hill  in  the  day  of  the 
gloomy  storm.  Sawest  thou  the  son  of  Torman,  lovely  on  the 
hill  of  his  hinds?  Here  the  daughter  of  Cormac  waits  the 
coming  of  Cathbat. ' 

"  '  And  long  shall  Morna  wait,'  Duchomar  said  ;  '  his  blood  is 
on  my  sword.  Long  shall  Morna  wait  for  him.  He  fell  at 
Branno's  stream.  High  on  Cromla  I  will  raise  his  tomb,  daugh- 
ter of  Cormac -cairbar  ;  but  fix  thy  love  on  Duchomar  ;  his  arm 
is  strong  as  a  storm. ' 

' '  '  And  is  the  son  of  Torman  fallen  ?'  said  the  maid  of  the 
tearful  eye.  '  Is  he  fallen  on  his  echoing  heath  ;  the  youth  with 
the  breast  of  snow?  he  that  was  first  in  the  chase  of  the  hill; 
the  foe  of  the  strangers  of  the  ocean.  Duchomar  thou  art  dark 
indeed,  and  cruel  is  thy  arm  to  Morna.  But  give  me  that 
sword,  my  foe  !  I  love  the  blood  of  Cathbat.' 

"  He  gave  the  sword  to  her  tears.     But  she  pierced  his  manly 

1  Torraan,  thunder.  This  is  the  true  origin  of  the  Jupiter  Taramis  of  the 
ancients. 


3  24  LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

breast !  He  fell,  like  the  bank  of  a  mountain-stream,  and 
stretching  out  his  arm  he  said  : 

**' Daughter  of  Cormac-cairbar,  thou  hast  slain  Duchomar. 
The  sword  is  cold  in  my  breast :  Morna,  I  feel  it  cold.  Give 
me  to  Moina  the  maid ;  Duchomar  was  the  dream  of  her  night. 
She  will  raise  my  tomb  ;  and  the  hunter  shall  see  it  and  praise 
me.  But  draw  the  sword  from  my  breast ;  Morna,  the  steel  is 
cold.'  She  came,  in  all  her  tears,  she  came,  and  drew  it  from 
his  breast.  He  pierced  her  white  side  with  steel ;  and  spread 
her  fair  locks  on  the  ground.  Her  bursting  blood  sounds  from 
her  side,  and  her  white  arm  is  stained  with  red.  Rolling  in 
death  she  lay,  and  Tura'  s  cave  answered  to  her  groans. ' ' 

"  '  Peace,'  said  Cuchullin,  '  to  the  souls  of  the  heroes  ;  their 
deeds  were  great  in  danger.  Let  them  ride  aroimd'  me  on 
clouds ;  and  show  their  features  of  war  ;  that  my  soul  may  be 
strong  in  danger ;  my  arm  like  the  thunder  of  heaven.  But  be 
thou  on  a  moonbeam,  O  Morna  !  near  the  window  of  my  rest ; 
when  my  thoughts  are  of  peace  ;  and  the  din  of  arms  is  over. 
Gather  the  strength  of  the  tribes,  and  move  to  the  wars  of  Erin. 
Attend  the  car  of  my  battles  ;  rejoice  in  the  noise  of  my  course. 
Place  three  spears  by  my  side ;  follow  the  bounding  of  my 
steeds ;  that  my  soul  may  be  strong  in  my  friends,  when  the  bat- 
tle darkens  round  the  beams  of  my  steel  ! '  " 

As  rushes  a  stream  of  foam  from  the  dark  shady  steep  of 
Cromla ;  when  the  thunder  is  rolling  above,  and  dark-brown 
night  rests  on  half  the  hill.  So  fierce,  so  vast,  so  terrible  rushed 
on  the  sons  of  Erin.  The  chief  like  a  whale  of  ocean,  whom  all 
his  billows  follow,  poured  valor  forth  as  a  stream,  rolling  his 
might  along  the  shore. 

As  when  a  stream  of  foam  down  headlong  sweeps 
From  airy  Cromla' s  black  impending  steeps, 
While  thunders  war  above  in  broken  peals, 
And  half  the  hill  the  shading  night  conceals, 
At  intervals  appear  the  awful  forms 
Of  passing  ghosts  dim  riding  on  the  storms, 

1  It  was  the  opinion  then,  as  indeed  it  is  to  this  day,  of  some  of  the  High- 
landers, that  the  souls  of  the  deceased  hovered  round  their  living  friends,  and 
sometimes  appeared  to  them  when  they  were  about  to  enter  on  any  great  un- 
dertaking. 


FINGAL,  325 

The  signal  given  ;  thus  terrible  and  strong 
The  sons  of  Erin  move  with  shouts  along. 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

The  sons  of  Lochlin  heard  the  noise  as  the  sound  of  a  winter- 
stream.  Swaran  struck  his  bossy  shield,  and  called  the  son  of 
Arno. 

''What  murmur  rolls  along  the  hill  like  the  gathered  flies 
of  evening?  The  sons  of  Innisfail  descend,  or  rustling  winds 
roar  in  the  distant  wood.  Such  is  the  noise  of  Gormal  before 
the  white  tops  of  my  waves  arise.  O  son  of  Arno,  ascend  the 
hill  and  view  the  dark  face  of  the  heath." 

He  went,  and  trembling,  swift  returned.  His  eyes  rolled 
wildly  round.  His  heart  beat  high  against  his  side.  His  words 
were  faltering,  broken,  slow  : 

**  Rise,  son  of  ocean,  rise  chief  of  the  dark -brown  shields.  I 
see  the  dark,  the  mountain-stream  of  the  battle  :  the  deep- 
moving  strength  of  the  sons  of  Erin.  The  car,  the  car  of  battle 
comes,  like  the  flame  of  death  ;  the  rapid  car  of  Cuchullin,  the 
noble  son  of  Semo.  It  bends  behind  like  a  wave  near  a  rock , 
like  the  golden  mist  of  the  heath.  Its  sides  are  embossed  with 
stones,  and  sparkle  like  the  sea  round  the  boat  of  night.  Of 
polished  yew  is  its  beam,  and  its  seat  of  the  smoothest  bone. 
The  sides  are  replenished  with  spears ;  and  the  bottom  is  the 
footstool  of  heroes.  Before  the  right  side  of  the  car  is  seen  the 
snorting  horse.  The  high-maned,  broad-breasted,  proud,  high- 
leaping,  strong  steed  of  the  hill.  Loud  and  resounding  is  his 
hoof;  the  spreading  of  his  mane  above  is  like  that  stream  of 
smoke  on  the  heath.  Bright  are  the  sides  of  the  steed,  and  his 
name  is  Sulin-Sifadda. 

''  Before  the  left  side  of  the  car  is  seen  the  snorting  horse. 
The  dark  maned,  high-headed,  strong-hoofed,  fleet,  bounding  son 
of  the  hill :  his  name  is  Dunsronnal  among  the  stormy  sons  of  the 
sword.  A  thousand  thongs  bind  the  car  on  high.  Hard  pol- 
ished  bits  shine  in  a  wreath  of  foam.  Thin  thongs  bright-studded 
with  gems,  bend  on  the  stately  necks  of  the  steeds.  The  steeds 
that  like  wreaths  of  mist  fly  over  the  streamy  vales.  The  wild- 
ness  of  deer  is  in  their  course,  the  strength  of  the  eagle  descend- 
ing on  her  prey.  Their  noise  is  like  the  blast  of  winter  on  the 
sides  of  the  snow -headed  Gormal. 


326 


LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 


*' Within  the  car  is  seen  the  chief;  the  strong  stormy  son  of 
the  sword;  the  hero's  name  is  CuchuUin,  son  of  Semo  king  of 
shells.  His  red  cheek  is  like  my  polished  yew.  The  look  of 
his  blue- rolling  eye  is  wide  beneath  the  dark  arch  of  his  brow. 
His  hair  flies  from  his  head  like  a  flame,  as  bending  forward  he 
wields  the  spear.  Fly,  king  of  ocean,  fly;  he  comes,  like  a 
storm  along  the  streamy  vale. ' ' 


Cuchullin  in  his  chariot  leads  the  way. ' ' 


'*  When  did  I  fly, "  replied  the  king,  ^'  from  the  battle  of  many 
spears  ?  When  did  I  fly,  son  of  Arno,  chief  of  the  little  soul  ? 
I  met  the  storm  of  Gormal  when  the  foam  of  my  waves  was 
high  ;  I  met  the  storm  of  the  clouds  and  shall  I  fly  from  a  hero  ? 
Were  it  Fingal  himself  my  soul  should  not  darken  before  him. 
Rise  to  the  battle,  my  thousands  ;  pour  round  me  like  the  echo- 
ing main.  Gather  round  the  bright  steel  of  your  king  ;  strong  as 
the  rocks  of  my  land  ;  that  meet  the  storm  with  joy,  and  stretch 
their  dark  woods  to  the  wind. ' ' 

As  autumn's  dark  storms  pour  from  two  echoing  hills,  towards 
each  other  approached  the  heroes.     As  two  dark  streams  from 


FINGAL.  327 

high  rocks  meet,  and  mix  and  roar  on  the  plain  ;  loud,  rough  and 
dark  in  battle  meet  Lochlin  and  Innisfail.  Chief  mixes  his 
strokes  with  chief,  and  man  with  man  ;  steel,  clanging,  sounded 
on  steel,  helmets  are  cleft  on  high.  Blood  bursts  and  smokes 
around.  Strings  twang  on  the  polished  yews.  Darts  rush  along 
the  sky.  Spears  fall  like  the  circles  of  light  that  gild  the  stormy 
face  of  night. 

As  the  troubled  noise  of  the  ocean  when  roll  the  waves  on 
high  :  as  the  last  peal  of  the  thunder  of  heaven,  such  is  the  noise 
of  battle.  Though  Cormac's  hundred  bards  were  there  to  give 
the  war  to  song ;  feeble  were  the  voices  of  a  hundred  bards  to 
send  the  deaths  to  future  times.  For  many  were  the  falls  of  the 
heroes  ;  and  wide  poured  the  blood  of  the  valiant. 

Mourn,  ye  sons  of  song,  the  death  of  the  noble  Sithallin.  Let 
the  sighs  of  Fiona  rise  on  the  dark  heaths  of  her  lovely  Ardan. 
They  fell,  like  two  hinds  of  the  desert,  by  the  hands  of  the 
mighty  Swaran,  when,  in  the  midst  of  thousands  he  roared 
like  the  shrill  spirit  of  a  storm,  that  sits  dim,  on  the  clouds  of 
Gormal,  and  enjoys  the  death  of  the  mariner. 

Nor  slept  thy  hand  by  thy  side,  chief  of  the  isle  of  mist;' 
many  were  the  deaths  of  thine  arm,  Cuchullin,  thou  son  of  Semo. 
His  sword  was  like  the  beam  of  heaven  when  it  pierces  the  sons 
of  the  vale ;  when  the  people  are  blasted  and  fall,  and  all  the 
hills  are  burning  around.  Dunsronnal  snorted  over  the  bodies  of 
heroes,  and  Sifadda  bathed  his  hoof  in  blood.  The  battle  lay 
behind  them  as  groves  overturned  on  the  desert  of  Cromla,  when 
the  blast  had  passed  the  heath  laden  with  the  spirits  of  night. 

Weep  on  the  rocks  of  roaring  winds,  O  maid  of  Inistore  I^ 
Bend  thy  fair  head  over  the  waves,  thou  fairer  than  the  spirit  of 
the  hills,  when  it  moves  in  a  sunbeam  at  noon  over  the  silence 
of  Morven.     He  is  fallen  !   thy  youth  is  low  ;   pale  beneath  the 

1  The  Isle  of  Sky. 

2  The  maid  of  Inistore  was  the  daughter  of  Gorlo,  king  of  Inistore  or  Orkney 
islands.  Trenar  was  brother  to  the  king  of  Iniscon,  supposed  to  be  one  of  the 
islands  of  Shetland.  The  Orkneys  and  Shetland  were  at  that  time  subject  to 
the  king  of  Lochlin.  We  find  that  the  dogs  of  Trenar  are  sensible  at  home 
of  the  death  of  their  master,  the  very  instant  he  is  killed.  It  was  the  opinion 
of  the  times  that  the  souls  of  heroes  went  immediately  after  death  to  the  hills 
of  their  country,  and  the  scenes  they  frequented  the  most  happy  time  of  their 
life.     It  was  thought  too  that  dogs  and  horses  saw  the  ghosts  of  the  deceased. 


328       LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

sword  of  Cuchullin,  No  more  shall  valor  raise  the  youth  to 
match  the  blood  of  kings.  Trenar,  lovely  Trenar  died,  thou 
maid  of  Inistore.  His  gray  dogs  are  howling  at  home,  and  see 
his  passing  ghost.  His  bow  is  in  the  hall  unstrung.  No  sound 
is  in  the  heath  of  his  hinds. 

As  roll  a  thousand  waves  on  a  rock,  so  Swaran's  host  came  on  ; 
as  meets  a  rock  a  thousand  waves,  so  Innisfail  met  Swaran. 
-Death  raises  all  his  voices  around,  and  mixes  with  the  sound  of 
^ their  shields.  Each  hero  is  a  pillar  of  darkness,  and  the  sword 
a  beam  of  fire  in  his  hand.  The  field  echoes  from  wing  to  wing, 
as  a  hundred  hammers  that  rise  by  turns  on  the  red  son  of  the 
furnace. 

Who  are  these  on  Lena's  heath  that  are  so  gloomy  and  dark? 
Who  are  these  like  two  clouds,  and  their  swords  like  lightning 
above  them  ?  The  little  hills  are  troubled  around,  and  the  rocks 
tremble  with  all  their  moss.  Who  is  it  but  Ocean's  son,  and  the 
car-borne  chief  of  Erin?  Many  are  the  anxious  eyes  of  their 
friends,  as  they  see  them  dim  on  the  heath.  Now  night  con- 
ceals the  chiefs  in  her  clouds,  and  ends  the  terrible  fight. 

It  was  on  Cromla's  shaggy  side  that  Dorglas  placed  the  deer, 
the  early  fortune  of  the  chase,  before  the  heroes  left  the  hill.  A 
hundred  youths  collect  the  heath ;  ten  heroes  blow  the  fire  ; 
three  hundred  choose  the  polished  stones.  The  feast  is  smoking 
wide. 

Cuchullin,  chief  of  Erin's  war,  resumed  his  mighty  soul.  He 
stood  upon  his  beamy  spear  and  spoke  to  the  son  of  songs ;  to 
Carril  of  other  times,  the  gray-haired  son  of  Kinsena  :  **  Is  this 
feast  spread  for  me  alone  and  the  king  of  Lochlin  on  Ullin's 
shore,  far  from  the  deer  of  his  hills  and  sounding  halls  of  his 
feasts?  Rise,  Carril  of  other  times,  and  carry  my  words  to 
Swaran  ;  tell  him  that  came  from  the  roaring  of  waters,  that 
.  Cuchullin  gives  his  feast.  Here  let  him  listen  to  the  sound  of 
my  groves  amidst  the  clouds  of  night.  For  cold  and  bleak  the 
blustering  winds  rush  over  the  foam  of  his  seas.  Here  let  him 
praise  the  trembling  harp,  and  hear  the  songs  of  heroes." 

Old  Carril  went,  with  softest  voice,  and  called  the  king  of 
dark -brown  shields.  ''Rise  from  the  skins  of  thy  chase,  rise, 
Swaran  king  of  groves.  Cuchullin  gives  the  joy  of  shells  ;  par- 
take the  feast  of  Erin's  blue-eyed  chief. "     He  answered  like  the 


FINQAL.  329 

sullen  sound  of  Cromla  before  a  storm.  ''  Though  all  thy  daugh- 
ters, Innisfail,  should  extend  their  arms  of  snow  ;  raise  high  the 
heavings  of  their  breasts,  and  softly  roll  their  eyes  of  love  ;  yet, 
fixed  as  Lochlin's  thousand  rocks,  here  Swaran  shall  remain 
till  morn,  with  the  young  beams  of  my  east,  shall  light  me  to  the 
death  of  Cuchullin.  Pleasant  to  my  ear  is  Lochlin's  wind.  It 
rushes  over  my  seas.  It  speaks  aloft  in  all  my  shrowds,  and 
brings  my  green  forests  to  my  mind  ;  the  green  forests  of  Gormal 
that  often  echoed  to  my  winds,  when  my  spear  was  red  in  the 
chase  of  the  boar.  Let  dark  Cuchullin  yield  to  me  the  ancient 
throne  of  Cormac,  or  Erin's  torrents  shall  show  from  their  hil).. 
the  red  foam  of  the  blood  of  his  pride. ' ' 

*'Sad  is  the  sound  of  Swaran' s  voice,"  said  Carril  of  othet- 
times  :  * '  Sad  to  himself  alone, ' '  said  the  bluercyed  son  of  Semo. 
*'  But,  Carril,  raise  thy  voice  on  high,  and  tell  the  deeds  of  other 
times.  Send  thou  the  night  away  in  song,  and  give  the  joy  of 
grief.  For  many  heroes  and  maids  of  love  have  moved  on  Innis- 
fail. And  lovely  are  the  songs  of  woe  that  are  heard  on  Albion's 
rocks ;  when  the  noise  of  the  chase  is  over,  and  the  streams  of 
Cona  answer  to  the  voice  of  Ossian."^ 

*'  In  other  days,"  Carril  replies,  ''came  the  sons  of  Ocean  to 
Erin.  A  thousand  vessels  bounded  over  the  waves  to  Ullin's 
lovely  plains.  The  sons  of  Innisfail  arose  to  meet  the  race  of 
dark-brown  shields.  Cairbar,  first  of  men,  was  there,  and  Grudar, 
stately  youth.  Long  had  they  strove  for  the  spotted  bull,  that 
lowed  on  Golbun's  echoing  heath.  Each  claimed  him  as  his 
own  ;  and  death  was  often  at  the  point  of  their  steel.  Side  by 
side  the  heroes  fought,  and  the  strangers  of  Ocean  fled.  Whose 
name  was  fairer  on  the  hill  than  the  name  of  Cairbar  and  Grudar  ? 
But  ah  !  why  ever  lowed  the  bull  on  Golbun's  echoing  heath? 
They  saw  him  leaping  like  the  snow.  The  wrath  of  the  chiefs 
returned. 

''On  Lubar's^  grassy  banks  they  fought,  and  Grudar,  like  a 

1  Ossian  is  the  son  of  Fingal  and  author  of  the  poem.  One  cannot  but  ad- 
mire the  address  of  the  poet  in  putting  his  own  praise  so  naturally  into  the 
mouth  of  Cuchullin.  The  Cona  here  mentioned  is  perhaps  that  small  river 
that  runs  through  Glenco  in  Argyleshire.  One  of  the  hills  which  environ  that 
romantic  valley  in  still  called  Scorna-fena,  or  the  hill  of  Fingal' s  people. 

'  Lubar,  a  river  in  Ulster. 


3 30  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETR Y. 

sunbeam,  fell.  Fierce  Cairbar  came  to  the  vale  of  the  echoing 
Tura,  where  Brassolis,  fairest  of  his  sisters,  all  alone  raised  the 
song  of  grief.  She  sung  of  the  actions  of  Grudar,  the  youth  of 
her  secret  soul.  She  mourned  him  in  the  field  of  blood ;  but 
still  she  hoped  for  his  return.  Her  white  bosom  is  seen  from 
her  robe,  as  the  moon  from  the  clouds  of  night.  Her  voice  was 
softer  than  the  harp  to  raise  the  song  of  grief.  Her  soul  was 
fixed  on  Grudar ;  the  secret  look  of  her  eye  was  his.  When 
shalt  thou  come  in  thine  arms,  thou  mighty  in  the  war? 

**  *  Take,  Brassolis,'  Cairbar  came  and  said,  *  take,  Brassolis, 
this  shield  of  blood.  Fix  it  on  high  within  my  hall,  the  armor 
of  my  foe.'  Her  soft  heart  beat  against  her  side.  Distracted, 
pale,  she  flew.  She  found  her  youth  in  all  his  blood  !  she  died 
on  Cromla's  heath.  Here  rests  their  dust,  Cuchullin  ;  and  these 
two  lonely  yews,  sprung  from  their  tombs,  wish  to  meet  on  high. 
Fair  was  Brassolis  on  the  plain,  and  Grudar  on  the  hill.  The 
bard  shall  preserve  their  names,  and  repeat  them  to  future 
times, ' ' 

**  Pleasant  is  thy  voice,  O  Carril,"  said  the  blue-eyed  chief 
of  Erin.  ^'  Lovely  are  the  words  of  other  times.  They  are  like 
the  calm  shower  of  spring,  when  the  sun  looks  on  the  field,  and 
the  light  cloud  flies  over  the  hills.  O  strike  the  harp  in  praise 
of  my  love,  the  lonely  sunbeam  of  Dunscaich.  Strike  the  harp 
in  the  praise  of  Bragela,  of  her  that  I  left  in  the  isle  of  Mist,  the 
spouse  of  Semo's  son.  Dost  thou  raise  thy  fair  face  from  the 
rock  to  find  the  sails  of  Cuchullin?  The  sea  is  rolling  far  dis- 
tant, and  its  white  foam  shall  deceive  thee  for  my  sails.  Retire, 
for  it  is  night,  my  love,  and  the  dark  winds  sigh  in  thy  hair. 
Retire  to  the  halls  of  my  feasts,  and  think  of  the  times  that  are 
past :  for  I  will  not  return  till  the  storm  of  war  is  ceased.  O 
Connal,  speak  of  wars  and  arms,  and  send  her  from  my  mind, 
for  lovely  with  her  raven-hair  is  the  white  bosomed  daughter  of 
Sorglan." 

Connal,  slow  to  speak,  replied,  **  Guard  against  the  race  of 
Ocean.  Send  thy  troop  of  night  abroad,  and  watch  the  strength 
of  Swaran.  Cuchullin  !  I  am  for  peace  till  the  race  of  the 
desert  come ;  till  Fingal  come  the  first  of  men,  and  beam,  like 
the  sun,  on  our  fields. ' ' 

The  hero  struck  the  shield  of  his  alarms ;  the  warriors  of  the 


FINOAL. 


331 


n.ght  moved  on.  The  rest  lay  in  the  heath  of  the  deer,  and 
slept  amidst  the  dusky  wind.  The  ghosts'  of  the  lately  dead 
were  near,  and  swam  on  gloomy  clouds.  And  far  distant,  in  the 
dark  silence  of  Lena,  the  feeble  voices  were  heard, 

1  It  was  long  the  opinion  of  the  ancient  Scots  that  a  ghost  was  heard 
shrieking  near  the  place  where  a  death  was  to  happen  soon  after.  The  ac- 
counts given  to  this  day,  among  the  vulgar,  of  this  extraordinary  matter,  are 
very  poetical.  The  ghost  comes  mounted  on  a  meteor,  and  surrounds  twice  or 
thrice  the  place  destined  for  the  person  to  die,  and  then  goes  alon^  the  road 
through  which  the  funeral  is  to  pass,  shrieking  at  intervals  ;  at  last,  the  meteor 
and  ghost  disappear  above  the  burial-place. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Connal— The  Ghost  of  Crugal— The  Battle— Flight  of 
Grumal— The  Fleet  of  Fingal— Cuchullin's 
Depression — The  Story  of  Con- 
nal  and   Galvina. 

Connal  lay  by  the  sound  of  the  mountain  stream,  beneath  the 
aged  tree.  A  stone,  with  its  moss,  supported  his  head.  Shrill 
through  the  heath  of  Lena,  he  heard  the  voice  of  night.  At  dis- 
tance from  the  heroes  he  lay,  for  the  son  of  the  sword  feared  no 
foe. 

My  hero  saw  in  his  rest  a  dark-red  stream  of  fire  coming  down 
from  the  hill.  Crugal  sat  upon  the  beam,  a  chief  that  lately 
fell.  He  fell  by  the  hand  of  Swaran,  striving  in  the  battle  of 
heroes.  His  face  is  like  the  beam  of  the  setting  moon  ;  his 
robes  are  of  the  clouds  of  the  hill ;  his  eyes  are  like  two  decay- 
ing flames.      Dark  is  the  wound  of  his  breast. 

"  Crugal,"  said  the  mighty  Connal,  "  son  of  Dedgal  famed  on 
the  hill  of  the  deer,  why  so  pale  and  sad,  thou  breaker  of  the 
shields?  Thou  hast  never  been  pale  for  fear.  What  disturbs 
the  son  of  the  hill?" 

Dim,  and  in  tears,  he  stood  and  stretched  his  pale  hand  over 
the  hero.  Faintly  he  raised  hrs  feeble  voice,  like  the  gale  of  the 
reedy  Lego. 

*'My  ghost,  O  Connal,  is  on  my  native  hills;  but  my  corse 
is  on  the  sands  of  Ullin.  Thou  shalt  never  talk  with  Crugal,  or 
C332) 


FINGAL.  333 

find  his  lone  steps  in  the  heath.  I  am  light  as  the  blast  of 
Cromla,  and  I  move  like  the  shadow  of  mist.  Connal,  son  of 
Colgar,  I  see  the  dark  cloud  of  death  :  it  hovers  over  the  plains 
of  Lena.  The  sons  of  green  Erin  shall  fall.  Remove  from  the 
field  of  ghosts. "  Like  the  darkened  moon  he  retired,  in  the 
midst  of  the  whistling  blast, 

''Stay,''  said  the  mighty  Connal,  ''stay  my  dark  red  friend. 
Lay  by  that  beam  of  heaven,  son  of  the  windy  Cromla.  What 
cave  of  the  hill  is  thy  lonely  house?  What  green-headed  hill  is 
the  place  of  thy  rest  ?  Shall  we  not  hear  thee  in  the  storm  ?  In 
the  noise  of  the  mountain  stream  ?  When  the  feeble  sons  of  the 
wind  come  forth,  and  ride  on  the  blast  of  the  desert  ?' ' 

The  soft -voiced  Connal  rose  in  the  midst  of  his  sounding 
arms.  He  struck  his  shield  above  Cuchullin.  The  son  of  battle 
waked. 

"Why,"  said  the  ruler  of  the  car,  "comes  Connal  through 
the  night?  My  spear  might  turn  against  the  sound,  and  Cu- 
chullin mourn  the  death  of  his  friend.  Speak,  Connal,  son  of 
Colgar,  speak,  thy  counsel  is  like  the  son  of  heaven. ' ' 

"Son  of  Semo,"  replied  the  chief,  "the  ghost  of  Crugal 
came  from  the  cave  of  his  hill.  The  stars  dim-twinkled  through 
his  form,  and  his  voice  was  like  the  sound  of  a  distant  stream. 
He  is  a  messenger  of  death.  He  speaks  of  the  dark  and  narrow 
house.  Sue  for  peace,  O  chief  of  Dunscaich,  or  fly  over  the 
heath  of  Lena. ' ' 

"  He  spoke  to  Connal,"  replied  the  hero,  "  though  stars  dim- 
twinkled  through  his  form.  Son  of  Colgar,  it  was  the  wind  that 
murmured  in  the  caves  of  Lena.  Or  if  it  was  the  form^  of 
Crugal,  why  didst  thou  not  force  him  to  my  sight.  Hast  thou 
inquired  where  is  his  cave  ?  The  house  of  the  son  of  the  wind  ? 
My  sword  might  find  that  voice,  and  force  his  knowledge  from 
him.  And  small  is  his  knowledge,  Connal,  for  he  was  here  to- 
day. He  could  not  have  gone  beyond  our  hills,  and  who  could 
tell  him  there  of  our  death  ?' ' 

^  The  poet  teaches  us  the  opinions  that  prevailed  in  his  time  concerning 
the  state  of  separate  souls.  From  Connal's  expression,  "  That  the  stars  dim- 
twinkled  through  the  form  of  Ciugal,"  and  CuchuUin's  reply,  we  may  gather 
that  they  both  thought  the  soul  was  material — something  like  the  ctJwXoj/  of  the 
ancient  Greeks. 


334  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

''Ghosts  fly  on  clouds  and  ride  on  winds,"  said  Connal's 
voice  of  wisdom.  ''They  rest  together  in  their  caves,  and  talk 
of  mortal  men." 

"Then  let  them  talk  of  mortal  men  ;  of  every  man  but  Erin's 
chief.  Let  me  be  forgot  in  their  cave  ;  for  I  will  not  fly  from 
Swaran.  If  I  must  fall,  my  tomb  shall  rise  amidst  the  fame  of 
future  times.  The  hunter  shall  shed  a  tear  on  my  stone,  and 
sorrow  dwell  round  the  high-bosomed  Bragela.  I  fear  not  death, 
but  I  fear  to  fly,  for  Fingal  saw  me  often  victorious.  Thou  dim 
phantom  of  the  hill,  show  thyself  to  me  !  come  on  thy  beam  of 
heaven,  and  show  me  my  death  in  thine  hand ;  yet  will  I  not 
fly,  thou  feeble  son  of  the  wind. 

*'  The  boding  threats  of  feeble  ghosts  above 
Shall  not  Cuchullin  from  his  purpose  move 
Who  is  determined,  blame  it  as  they  may, 
Still  to  oppose  the  monarch  of  the  sea." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

Go,  son  of  Colgar,  strike  the  shield  of  Caithbat,  it  hangs  be- 
tween the  spears.  Let  my  heroes  rise  to  the  sound  in  the  midst 
of  the  battles  of  Erin.  Though  Fingal  delays  his  coming  with 
the  race  of  the  stormy  hills,  we  shall  fight,  O  Colgar' s  son,  and 
die  in  the  battle  of  heroes." 

The  sound  spreads  wide ;  the  heroes  rise,  like  the  breaking  of 
a  blue-rolling  wave.  They  stood  on  the  heath,  like  oaks  with  all 
their  branches  round  them ;  when  they  echo  to  the  stream  of 
frost,  and  their  withered  leaves  rustle  to  the  wind. 

High  Cromla's  head  of  clouds  is  gray ;  the  morning  trembles 
on  the  half-enlightened  ocean.  The  blue,  gray  mist  swims 
slowly  by,  and  hides  the  sons  of  Innisfail. 

"  Rise  ye,"  said  the  king  of  the  dark-brown  shields,  "  ye  that 
came  from  Lochlin's  waves.  The  sons  of  Erin  have  fled  from 
our  arms — pursue  them  over  the  plains  of  Lena.  And  Morla,  go 
to  Cormac's  hall  and  bid  them  yield  to  Swaran  ;  before  the 
people  shall  fall  into  the  tomb  ;  and  the  hills  of  Ullin  be  silent." 

They  rose  like  a  flock  of  sea- fowl  when  the  waves  expel  them 
from  the  shore.  Their  sound  was  like  a  thousand  streams  that 
meet  in  Cona's  vale  when,  after  a  stormy  night,  they  turn  their 
dark  eddies  beneath  the  pale  light  of  the  morning. 


PINOAL.  335 

As  the  dark  shades  of  autumn  fly  over  the  hills  of  grass,  so 
gloomy,  dark,  successive  came  the  chiefs  of  Lochlin's  echoing 
woods.  Tall  as  the  stag  of  Morven  moved  on  the  king  of  groves. 
His  shining  shield  is  on  his  side  like  a  flame  on  the  heath  at 
night,  when  the  world  is  silent  and  dark,  and  the  traveller  sees 
some  ghost  sporting  in  the  beam. 

A  blast  from  the  troubled  ocean  removed  the  settled  mist. 
The  sons  of  Innisfail  appear  like  a  ridge  of  rocks  on  the  shore. 

'*  Now  from  the  troubled  main  a  blast  dispelled 
The  settled  mist,  and  like  a  ridge  of  rocks 
The  warlike  sons  of  Innisfail  appear." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

''Go,  Morla,  go,"  said  Lochlan's  king,  ''and  ofl'er  peace  to 
these.  Offer  the  terms  we  give  to  kings  when  nations  bow 
before  us.  When  the  valiant  are  dead  in  war,  and  the  virgins 
weeping  on  the  field. ' ' 

Great  Morla  came,  the  son  of  Swart,  and  stately  strode  the 
king  of  shields.  He  spoke  to  Erin's  blue-eyed  son,  among  the 
lesser  heroes. 

"Take  Swaran's  peace,"  the  warrior  spoke,  "the  peace  he 
gives  to  kings,  when  the  nations  bow  before  him.  Leave  Ullin's 
lovely  plains  to  us,  and  give  thy  spouse  and  day.  Thy  spouse 
high -bosomed  heaving  fair.  Thy  dog  that  overtakes  the  wind. 
Give  these  to  prove  the  weakness  of  thine  arm,  and  live  beneath 
our  power. ' ' 

' '  Tell  Swaran,  tell  that  heart  of  pride,  that  Cuchullin  never 
yields.  I  give  him  the  dark-blue  rolling  of  ocean,  or  I  give  his 
people  graves  in  Erin  !  Never  shall  a  stranger  have  the  lovely 
sunbeam  of  Dunscaich  ;  nor  ever  deer  fly  on  Lochlin's  hills  be- 
fore the  nimble-footed  Luath." 

"Vain  ruler  of  the  car,"  said  Morla,  "wilt  thou  fight  the 
king  ;  that  king  whose  ships  of  many  groves  could  carry  off"  thine 
Isle  ?  So  little  is  thy  green-hilled  UUin  to  the  king  of  stormy 
waves. ' ' 

"In  words  I  yield  to  many,  Morla;  but  this  sword  shall 
yield  to  none.  Erin  shall  own  the  sway  of  Cormac,  while  Con- 
nal  and  Cuchullin  live.  O  Connal,  first  of  mighty  men,  thou 
hast  heard  the  words  of  Morla ;  shall  thy  thoughts  then  be  of 
peace,  thou  breaker  of  the  shields  ?     Spirit  of  fallen  Crugal  J 


3  >t>  LEQENBARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

why  didst  thou  threaten  us  with  death  !  The  narrow  house 
shall  receive  me  in  the  midst  of  the  light  of  renown.  Exalt,  ye 
sons  of  Innisfail,  exalt  the  spear  and  bend  the  bow  ;  rush  on  the 
foe  in  darkness,  as  the  spirits  of  stormy  nights." 

Then  dismal,  roaring,  fierce,  and  deep  the  gloom  of  battle 
rolled  along  ;  as  mist  that  is  poured  on  the  valley,  when  storms 
invade  the  silent  sunshine  of  heaven.  The  chief  moves  before 
in  arms  like  an  angry  ghost  before  a  cloud,  when  meteors  in- 
close him  with  fire,  and  the  dark  winds  are  in  his  hand.  Carril, 
far  on  the  heath,  bids  the  horn  of  battle  sound.  He  raises  the 
voice  of  the  song,  and  pours  his  soul  into  the  minds  of  heroes. 

''Where,"  said  the  mouth  of  the  song,  ''where  is  the  fallen 
Crugal  ?  He  lies  forgot  on  earth,  and  the  hall  of  shells^  is  silent.- 
Sad  is  the  spouse  of  Crugal,  for  she  is  a  stranger^  in  the  hall  of 
her  sorrow.  But  who  is  she,  that,  like  a  sunbeam,  flies  before 
the  ranks  of  the  foe?  It  is  Degrena,^  lovely  fair,  the  spouse  of 
fallen  Crugal.  Her  hair  is  on  the  wind  behind.  Her  eye  is 
red ;  her  voice  is  shrill.  Green,  empty  is  thy  Crugal  now,  his 
form  is  in  the  cave  of  the  hill.  He  comes  to  the  ear  of  rest,  and 
raises  his  feeble  voice ;  like  the  humming  of  the  mountain-bee, 
or  collected  flies  of  evening.  But  Degrena  falls  like  a  cloud  of 
the  morn  ;  the  sword  of  Lochlin  is  in  her  side.  Cairbar,  she  is 
fallen,  the  rising  thought  of  thy  youth.  She  is  fallen,  O  Cairbar, 
the  thought  of  thy  youthful  hours. ' ' 

Fierce  Cairbar  heard  the  mournful  sound,  and  rushed  on  like 
ocean's  whale  ;  he  saw  the  death  of  his  daughter  ;  and  roared  in 
the  midst  of  thousands.  His  spear  met  a  son  of  Lochlin,  and 
battle  spread  from  wing  to  wing.  As  a  hundred  winds  in  Loch- 
lin's  groves,  as  fire  in  the  firs  of  a  hundred  hills;  so  loud,  so 
ruinous  and  vast  the  ranks  of  men  are  hewn  down.  Cuchullin 
cut  off"  heroes  like  thistles,  and  Swaran  wasted  Erin.  Curach  fell 
by  his  hand,  and  Cairbar  of  the  bossy  shield.  Morglan  lies  in 
lasting  rest ;  and  Caolt  quivers  as  he  dies.  His  white  breast  is 
.stained  with  his  blood,  and  his  yellow  hair  stretched  in  the  dust 

^  The  ancient  Scots,  as  well  as  the  present  Highlanders,  drunk  in  shells  ; 
het.oe  it  is  that  we  so  often  meet,  in  the  old  poetry,  with  the  chief  of  shells, 
and  the  halls  of  shells. 

^  Crugal  had  married  Degrena  but^a  little  time  before  the  battle,  conse- 
quently she  may  wiih  propriety  be  called  a  stranger  in  the  hall  of  her  sorrow. 

'  Deo-grena,  a  sunbeam. 


FINGAL.  337 

of  his  native  land.  He  often  had  spread  the  feast  where  he 
fell,  and  often  raised  the  voice  of  the  harp ;  when  his  dogs 
leapt  around  for  joy,  and  the  youths  of  the  chase  prepared  the 
bow. 

Still  Swaran  advanced,  as  a  stream  that  bursts  from  the  desert. 
The  little  hills  are  rolled  in  its  course,  and  the  rocks  half-sunk 
by  its  side.  But  Cuchullin  stood  before  him  like  a  hill,  that 
catches  the  clouds  of  heaven.  The  winds  contend  on  its  head 
of  pines,  and  the  hail  rattles  on  its  rocks.  But  firm  in  its 
strength,  it  stands  and  shades  the  silent  vale  of  Cona. 

So  Cuchullin  shaded  the  sons  of  Erin,  and  stood  in  the  midst 
of  thousands.  Blood  rises  like  the  fount  of  a  rock,  from  pant- 
ing heroes  around  him.  But  Erin  falls  on  either  wing  like  snow 
in  the  day  of  the  sun. 

''O  sons  of  Innisfail,"  said  Grumal,  "  Lochlin  conquers  on 
the  field.  Why  strive  we  as  reeds  against  the  wind  !  Fly  to  the 
hill  of  dark-brown  hinds."  He  fled  like  the  stag  of  Morven, 
and  his  spear  is  a  trembling  beam  of  light  behind  him.  Few  fled 
with  Grumal,  the  chief  of  the  little  soul  :  they  fell  in  the  battle 
of  heroes  on  Lena's  echoing  heath. 

High  on  his  car,  of  many  gems,  the  chief  of  Erin  stood ;  he 
slew  a  mighty  son  of  Lochlin,  and  spoke,  in  haste,  to  Connal. 
*'  O  Connal,  first  of  mortal  men,  thou  hast  taught  this  arm  of 
death!  Though  Erin's  sons  have  fled,  shall  we  not  fight  the 
foe?  O  Carril,  son  of  other  times,  carry  my  living  friends  to 
that  bushy  hill.  Here,  Connal,  let  us  stand  like  rocks,  and  save 
our  flying  friends." 

Connal  mounts  the  car  of  light.  They  stretch  their  shields 
like  the  darkened  moon,  the  daughter  of  the  starry  skies,  when 
she  moves,  a  dun  circle,  through  heaven.  Sifadda  panted  up 
the  hill,  and  Dunsronnal,  haughty  steed.  Like  waves  behind  a 
whale,  behind  them  rushed  the  foe. 

Now  on  the  rising  side  of  Cromla  stood  Erin's  few  sad  sons, 
like  a  grove  through  which  the  flame  had  rushed,  hurried  on  by 
the  winds  of  the  stormy  night.  Cuchullin  stood  beside  an  oak. 
He  rolled  his  red  eye  in  silence,  and  heard  the  wind  in  his  bushy 
hair,  when  the  scout  of  ocean  came,  Moran,  the  son  of  Fithil. 
'*The  ships,"  he  cried,  ''the  ships  of  the  lonely  isle!  There 
Fingal  comes,  the  first  of  men,  the  breaker  of  the  shields. 

«2 


338  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

*  In  silence  near  an  oak  CuchuUin  stood, 
His  eye  with  red  grief  rolling  and  the  wind 
His  bushy  hair  dishevelling,  when  appeared 
The  scout  of  the  ocean,  Moran,  Fithil's  son. 
*  Ships  land,'  he  cried." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

The  waves  foam  before  his  black  prows.  His  masts  with  sails  are 
like  groves  in  clouds." 

"  Blow,"  said  CuchuUin,  '*  all  ye  winds  that  rush  over  my  isle 
of  lovely  mist.  Come  to  the  death  of  thousands,  O  chief  of  the 
hills  of  hinds.  Thy  sails,  my  friend,  are  to  me  like  the  clouds 
of  the  morning ;  and  thy  ships  like  the  light  of  heaven ;  and 
thou  thyself  like  a  pillar  of  fire  that  giveth  light  in  the  night.  O 
Connal,  first  of  men,  how  pleasant  are  our  friends  !  But  the 
night  is  gathering  around  ;  where  now  are  the  ships  of  Fingal? 
Here  let  us  pass  the  hours  of  darkness,  and  wish  for  the  moon 
of  heaven." 

The  winds  came  down  on  the  woods.  The  torrents  rushed 
from  the  rocks.  Rain  gathered  round  the  head  of  Cromla ;  and 
the  red  stars  trembled  between  the  flying  clouds.  Sad,  by  the 
side  of  a  stream  whose  sound  was  echoed  by  a  tree,  sad  by  the 
side  of  a  stream  the  chief  of  Erin  sat.  Connal  son  of  Colgar  was 
there,  and  Carril  of  other  times. 

''  Unhappy  is  the  hand  of  CuchuUin,"  said  the  son  of  Semo, 
*' unhappy  is  the  hand  of  CuchiiUin  since  he  slew  his  friend. 
Ferda,  thou  son  of  Damman,  I  loved  thee  as  myself. ' ' 

"How,  CuchuUin,  son  of  Semo,  fell  the  breaker  of  the 
shields?  Well  I  remember,"  said  Connal,  ''the  noble  son  of 
Damman.  Tall  and  fair  he  was,  like  the  rainbow  of  the  hill. 
Ferda  from  Albion  came,  the  chief  of  a  hundred  hills.  In 
Muri's^  hall  he  learned  the  sword,  and  won  the  friendship  of 
CuchuUin.  We  moved  to  the  chase  together  ;  and  one  was  our 
bed  in  the  heath." 

Deugala  was  the  spouse  of  Cairbar,  chief  of  the  plains  of 
UUin.  She  was  covered  with  the  light  of  beauty,  but  her  heart 
was  the  house  of  pride.  She  loved  that  sunbeam  of  youth, 
the  noble  son  of  Damman.      ''Cairbar,"  said  the  white-armed 

^  Muri,  say  the  Irish  bards,  was  an  academy  in  Ulster  for  teaching  the  use 
of  arms.  The  signification  of  the  word  is  a  cluster  of  people  ;  which  render? 
the  opinion  probable. 


FINQAL.  339 

woman,  ''give  me  half  of  the  herd.  No  more  I  will  remain  in 
your  halls.      Divide  the  herd,  dark  Cairbar." 

''Let  Cuchullin,"  said  Cairbar,  "divide  my  herd  on  the  hill. 
His  breast  is  the  seat  of  justice.  Depart,  thou  light  of  beauty." 
I  went  and  divided  the  herd.  One  snow-white  bull  remained. 
I  gave  that  bull  to  Cairbar.     The  wrath  of  Deugala  rose. 

"Son  of  Damman,"  begun  the  fair,  "Cuchullin  pains  my 
soul.  I  must  hear  of  his  death,  or  Lubar's  stream  shall  roll  over 
me.  My  pale  ghost  shall  wander  near  thee,  and  mourn  the 
wound  of  my  pride.  Pour  out  the  blood  of  Cuchullin  or  pierce 
this  heaving  breast." 

"  Deugala,"  said  the  fair-haired  youth,  "how  shall  I  slay  the 
son  of  Semo?  He  is  the  friend  of  my  secret  thoughts,  and 
shall  I  lift  the  sword  ?' '  She  wept  three  days  before  him  ;  on  the 
fourth  he  consented  to  fight. 

"  I  will  fight  my  friend,  Deugala  !  but  may  I  fall  by  his  sword. 
Could  I  wander  on  the  hill  and  behold  the  grave  of  Cuchullin?" 
We  fought  on  the  hills  of  Muri.  Our  swords  avoid  a  wound. 
They  slide  on  the  helmets  of  steel ;  and  sound  on  the  slippery 
shields.  Deugala  was  near  with  a  smile,  and  said  to  the  son  of 
Damman  :  "  Thine  arm  is  feeble,  thou  sunbeam  of  youth.  Thy 
years  are  not  strong  for  steel.  Yield  to  the  son  of  Semo.  He 
is  like  the  rock  of  Malmor. ' ' 

The  tear  is  in  the  eye  of  youth.  He,  faltering,  said  to  me  : 
"  Cuchullin,  raise  thy  bossy  shield.  Defend  thee  from  the  hand 
of  thy  friend.  My  soul  is  laden  with  grief,  for  I  must  slay  the 
chief  of  men." 

I  sighed  as  the  wind  in  the  chink  of  a  rock.  I  lifted  high  the 
edge  of  my  steel.  The  sunbeam  of  the  battle  fell ;  the  first  of 
Cuchullin' s  friends.  Unhappy  is  the  hand  of  Cuchullin  since 
the  hero  fell. 

"  Mournful  is  thy  tale,  son  of  the  car,"  said  Carril  of  other 
times.  "  It  sends  my  soul  back  to  the  ages  of  old,  and  to  the 
days  of  other  years.  Often  have  I  heard  of  Comal  who  slew 
the  friend  he  loved ;  yet  victory  attended  his  steel  ;  and  the 
battle  was  consumed  in  his  presence." 

Comal  was  a  son  of  Albion  ;  the  chief  of  an  hundred  hills. 
His  deer  drunk  of  a  thousand  streams.  A  thousand  rocks  replied 
to  the  voice  of  his  dogs.     His  face  was  the  mildness  of  youth. 


340  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETHY. 

His  hand  the  death  of  heroes.  One  was  his  love,  and  fair  was 
she  !  the  daughter  of  mighty  Conloch.  She  appeared  like  a 
sunbeam  among  women.  And  her  hair  was  like  the  wing  of  the 
raven.  Her  dogs  were  taught  to  the  chase.  Her  bow-string 
sounded  on  the  winds  of  the  forest.  Her  soul  was  fixed  on 
Comal.  Often  met  their  eyes  of  love.  Their  course  in  the  chase 
was  one,  and  happy  were  their  words  in  secret.  But  Gormal  loved 
the  maid,  the  dark  chief  of  the  gloomy  Ardven.  He  watched 
her  lone  steps  in  the  heath  ;  the  foe  of  unhappy  Comal. 

One  day,  tired  of  the  chase,  when  the  mist  had  concealed 
their  friends,  Comal  and  the  daughter  of  Conloch  met  in  the  cave 
of  Ronan.  It  was  the  wonted  haunt  of  Comal.  Its  sides  were 
hung  with  Ms  arms.  A  hundred  shields  of  thongs  were  there ;  a 
hundred  helms  of  sounding  steel. 

''  Rest  here,"  he  said,  "my  love  Galvina  ;  thou  light  of  the 
cave  of  Ronan.  A  deer  appears  on  Mora's  brow.  I  go;  but  I 
will  soon  return."  "1  fear,"  she  said,  *'  dark  Grumal  my  foe  ; 
he  haunts  the  cave  of  Ronan.  I  will  rest  among  the  arms ;  but 
soon  return,  my  love. ' ' 

He  went  to  the  deer  of  Mora.  The  daughter  of  Conloch  would 
try  his  love.  She  clothed  her  white  sides  with  his  armor,and  strode 
from  the  cave  of  Ronan.  He  thought  it  was  his  foe.  His  heart  beat 
high.  His  color  changed,  and  darkness  dimmed  his  eyes.  He 
drew  the  bow.  The  arrow  flew.  Galvina  fell  in  blood.  He  run  with 
wildness  in  his  steps  and  called  the  daughter  of  Conloch.  No 
answer  in  the  lonely  rock.  ' '  Where  art  thou,  O  my  love  ! ' '  He  saw 
at  length  her  heaving  heart  beating  around  the  feathered  dart. 
"  O  Conloch's  daughter,  is  it  thou?"    He  sunk  upon  her  breast. 

The  hunters  found  the  hapless  pair ;  he  afterwards  walked 
the  hill.  But  many  and  silent  were  his  steps  round  the  dark 
dwelling  of  his  love.  The  fleet  of  the  ocean  came.  He  fought ; 
the  strangers  fled.  He  searched  for  his  death  over  the  field. 
But  who  could  kill  the  mighty  Comal !  He  threw  away  his  dark- 
brown  shield.  An  arrow  found  his  manly  breast.  He  sleeps  with 
his  loved  Galvina  at  the  noise  of  the  sounding  surge.  Their  green 
tombs  are  seen  by  the  mariner,  when  he  bounds  on  the  waves  of 
the  north. 

"  The  sailors  bounding  on  the  northern  waves 
With  eager  eyes  their  verdant  tombs  survey. ' ' 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The   Song   of  Selma  —  Fingal   in    Battle  —  Death    of 

Agandecca  —  Death    of    Calmar  —  Arrival    of 

Fingal — CuchuUin   Retires  to  a  Cave — 

Fingal' s  Victory — Oscar's  Bravery 

—Gaul,   the    Son    of  Morni. 

"  Pleasant  are  the  words  of  the  song,"  said  CuchuUin,  **  and 
lovely  are  the  tales  of  other  times.  They  are  like  the  calm  dew 
of  the  morning  on  the  hill  of  roes,  when  the  sun  is  faint  on  its 
side,  and  the  lake  is  settled  and  blue  in  the  vale.  O  Carril, 
raise  again  thy  voice,  and  let  me  hear  the  song  of  Tura  :  which 
was  sung  in  my  halls  of  joy,  when  Fingal  king  of  shields  was 
there,  and  glowed  at  the  deeds  of  his  fathers." 

"  Fingal !  thou  man  of  battle,"  said  Carril,  ''  early  were  thy 
deeds  in  arms.  Lochlin  was  consumed  in  thy  wrath,  when  thy 
youth  strove  with  the  beauty  of  maids.  They  smiled  at  the  fair- 
blooming  face  of  the  hero  ;  but  death  was  in  his  hands.  He  was 
strong  as  the  waters  of  Lora.  His  followers  were  like  the  roar 
of  a  thousand  streams.  They  took  the  king  of  Lochlin  in  battle, 
but  restored  him  to  his  ships.  His  big  heart  swelled  with  pride, 
and  the  death  of  the  youth  was  dark  in  his  soul.  For  none  ever, 
but  Fingal,  overcame  the  strength  of  the  mighty  Starno.^ 

^  Starno  was  the  father  of  Swaran  as  well  as  Agandecca.  His  fierce  and 
cruel  character  is  well  marked  in  other  poems  concerning  the  times. 

(  ^41  ) 


342  LEG  END  AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

"He  sat  in  the  halls  of  his  shells  in  Lochlin's  woody  land. 
He  called  the  gray -haired  Snivan,  that  often  sung  round  the  cir- 
cle^ of  Loda  :  when  the  stone  of  power  heard  his  cry,  and  the 
battle  turned  in  the  field  of  the  valiant. 

**'Go,  gray-haired  Snivan,'  Starno  said,  'go  to  Ardven's 
sea-surrounded  rocks.  Tell  to  Fingal,  king  of  the  desert — he 
that  is  the  fairest  among  his  thousands — tell  him  I  give  him  my 
daughter,  the  loveliest  maid  that  ever  heaved  a  breast  of  snow. 
Her  arms  are  white  as  the  foam  of  my  waves.  Her  soul  as  gen- 
erous and  mild.  Let  him  come  with  his  bravest  heroes  to  the 
daughter  of  the  secret  hall.'  Snivan  came  to  Albion's  windy 
hills,  and  fair-haired  Fingal  went.  His  kindled  soul  flew 
before  him  as  he  bounded  on  the  waves  of  the  north.  *  Wel- 
come,'said  the  dark-browed  Starno,  'welcome,  king  of  rocky 
Morven ;  and  ye  his  heroes  of  might ;  sons  of  the  lonely  isle  ! 
Three  days  within  my  halls  shall  ye  feast ;  and  three  days  pursue 
my  boars,  that  your  fame  may  reach  the  maid  that  dwells  in  the 
secret  hall. ' 

"The  king  of  snow^  designed  their  death,  and  gave  the  feast 
of  shells.  Fingal,  who  doubted  the  foe,  kept  on  his  arms  of 
steel.  The  sons  of  death  were  afraid,  and  fled  from  the  eyes  of 
the  hero.  The  voice  of  sprightly  mirth  arose.  The  trembling 
harps  of  joy  are  strung.  Bards  sing  the  battle  of  heroes,  or  the 
heaving  breast  of  love.  Ullin,  Fingal's  bard,  was  there;  the 
sweet  voice  of  the  hill  of  Cona.  He  praised  the  daughter  of 
snow,  and  Morven' s^  high-descended  chief.  The  daughter  of 
snow  overheard,  and  left  the  hall  of  her  secret  sigh.  She  came 
in  all  her  beauty,  like  the  moon  from  the  cloud  of  the  east. 
Loveliness  was  around  her  as  light.  Her  steps  were  like  the 
music  of  songs.  She  saw  the  youth  and  loved  him.  He  was 
the  stolen  sigh  of  her  soul.  Her  blue  eyes  rolled  on  him  in 
secret,  and  she  blest  the  chief  of  Morven. 

"The  third  day,    with  all   its  beams,   shone  bright  on  the 

^  This  passage  most  certainly  alludes  to  the  religion  of  Lochlin,  and  the 
stone  of  power  here  mentioned  is  the  image  of  one  of  the  deities  of  Scandi- 
navia. 

^  Starno  is  here  poetically  called  the  king  of  snow,  from  the  great  quan- 
tities of  snow  that  fall  in  his  dominions. 

*  All  the  northwest  coast  of  Scotland  probably  went  of  old  under  the  name 
of  Morven,  which  signifies  a  ridge  of  very  high  hills. 


FINOAL.  343 

wood  of  boars.  Forth  moved  the  dark -browed  Starno ;  and 
Fingal,  king  of  shields.  Half  the  day  they  spent  in  the  chase, 
and  the  spear  of  Fingal  was  red  in  the  blood  of  Gormal.  It 
was  then  the  daughter  of  Starno,  with  blue  eyes  rolling  in  tears, 
came  with  her  voice  of  love,  and  spoke  to  the  king  of  Morven. 
*  Fingal,  high -descended  chief,  trust  not  Starno' s  heart  of 
pride.  Within  that  wood  he  has  placed  his  chiefs  ;  beware  of 
the  wood  of  death.  But,  remember,  son  of  the  hill,  remember 
Agandecca ;  save  me  from  the  wrath  of  my  father,  king  of  the 
windy  Morven  !' 

"The  youth,  with  unconcern,  went  on;  his  heroes  by  his 
side.  The  sons  of  death  fell  by  his  hand,  and  Gormal  echoed 
around. 

''Before  the  halls  of  Starno  the  sons  of  the  chase  convened. 
The  king's  dark  brows  were  like  clouds.  His  eyes  like  meteors 
of  night.  'Bring  hither,'  he  cries,  'Agandecca  to  her  lovely 
king  of  Morven.  His  hand  is  stained  with  the  blood  of  my 
people,  and  her  words  have  not  been  in  vain.' 

"She  came  with  the  red  eye  of  tears.  She  came  with  her 
loose  raven  locks.  Her  white  breast  heaved  with  sighs,  like  the 
foam  of  the  streamy  Lubar. 

**With  eyes  red  rolling  in  her  tears  she  came, 
With  raven  locks  loose  floating  in  the  air." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

Starno  pierced  her  side  with  steel.  She  fell  like  a  wreath  of 
snow  that  slides  from  the  rocks  of  Ronan,  when  the  woods  are 
still,  and  the  echo  deepens  in  the  vale.  Then  Fingal  eyed  his 
valiant  chiefs,  his  valiant  chiefs  took  arms.  The  gloom  of  the 
battle  roared,  and  Lochlin  fled  or  died.  Pale,  in  his  bounding 
ship  he  closed  the  maid  of  the  raven  hair.  Her  tomb  ascends 
on  Ardven,  and  the  sea  roars  round  the  dark  dwelling  of  Agan- 
decca. ' ' 

"Blessed  be  her  soul,"  said  CuchuUin,  "and  blessed  be  the 
mouth  of  the  song.  Strong  was  the  youth  of  Fingal,  and  strong 
is  his  arm  of  age.  Lochlin  shall  fall  again  before  the  king  of 
echoing  Morven.  Show  thy  face  from  a  cloud,  O  moon ;  light 
his  white  sails  on  the  wave  of  the  night.  And  if  any  strong 
spirit  of  heaven  sits  on  that  low -hung  cloud,  turn  his  dark  ships 
from  the  rock,  thou  rider  of  the  storm  ! " 


344  LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  F. 

Such  were  the  words  of  CuchuUin  at  the  sound  of  the  moun- 
tain-stream, when  Calmar  ascended  the  hill,  the  wounded  son 
of  Matha.  From  the  field  he  came  in  his  blood.  He  leaned 
on  his  bending  spear.  Feeble  is  the  arm  of  battle  !  but  strong 
the  soul  of  the  hero  ! 

** Welcome!  O  son  of  Matha,"  said  Connal,  ''welcome  art 
*thou  to  thy  friends !  Why  bursts  that  broken  sigh  from  the 
])reast  of  him  that  never  feared  before?" 

•  ''And  never,  Connal,  will  he  fear,  chief  of  the  pointed  steel. 
My  soul  brightens  in  danger,  and  exults  in  the  noise  of  battle. 
I  am  of  the  race  of  steel ;  my  fathers  never  feared. 

**Cormar  was  the  first  of  my  race.  He  sported  through  the 
storms  of  the  waves.  His  black  skiff  bounded  on  ocean,  and 
travelled  on  the  wings  of  the  blast.  A  spirit  once  embroiled 
the  night.  Seas  swell  and  rocks  resound.  Winds  drive  along 
the  clouds.  The  lightning  flies  on  wings  of  fire.  He  feared,  and 
came  to  land  ;  then  blushed  that  he  feared  at  all.  He  rushed 
again  among  the  waves  to  find  the  son  of  the  wind.  Three 
youths  guide  the  bounding  bark  ;  he  stood  with  the  sword  un- 
sheathed. When  the  low-hung  vapor  passed,  he  took  it  by  the 
curling  head,  and  searched  its  dark  womb  with  his  steel.  The 
son  of  the  wind  forsook  the  air.     The  moon  and  stars  returned. 

*'Such  was  the  boldness  of  my  race ;  and  Calmar  is  like  his 
fathers.  Danger  flies  from  the  uplifted  sword.  They  best  suc- 
ceed who  dare. 

"But  now,  ye  sons  of  green-valleyed  Erin,  retire  from  Lena's 
bloody  heath.  Collect  the  sad  remnant  of  our  friends,  and  join 
the  sword  of  Fingal.  I  heard  the  sound  of  Lochlin's  advancing 
arms ;  but  Calmar  will  remain  and  fight.  My  voice  shall  be 
such,  my  friends,  as  if  thousands  were  behind  me.  But,  son  of 
Semo,  remember  me.  Remember  Calmar' s  lifeless  corse.  After 
Fingal  has  wasted  the  field,  place  me  by  some  stone  of  remem- 
brance, that  future  times  may  hear  my  fame,  and  the  mother  of 
Calmar  rejoice  over  the  stone  of  my  renown." 

"No:  son  of  Matha,"  said  Cuchullin,  "I  will  never  leave 
thee.  My  joy  is  in  the  unequal  field :  my  soul  increases  in 
danger.  Connal,  and  Carril  of  other  times,  carry  off  the  sad 
sons  of  Erin ;  and  when  the  battle  is  over,  search  for  our  pale 
corses  in  this  narrow  way.     For  near  this  oak  we  shall  stand  in 


FINGAL.  345 

the  stream  of  the  battle  of  thousands.  O  Fithil's  son,  with  feet 
of  wind,  fly  over  the  heath  of  Lena.  Tell  to  Fingal  that  Erin 
is  inthralled,  and  bid  the  king  of  Morven  hasten.  O  let  him 
come  like  the  sun  in  a  storm,  when  he  shines  on  the  hills  of 
grass. ' ' 

Morning  is  gray  on  Cromla  ;  the  sons  of  the  sea  ascend.  Cal- 
mar  stood  forth  to  meet  them  in  the  pride  of  his  kindling  soul. 
But  pale  was  the  face  of  the  warrior ;  he  leaned  on  his  father' s 
spear.  That  spear  which  he  had  brought  from  Lara's  hall,  when 
the  soul  of  his  mother  was  sad.  But  slowly  now  the  hero  falls, 
like  a  tree  on  the  plains  of  Cona.  Dark  CuchuUin  stands  alone 
like  a  rock  in  a  sandy  vale.  The  sea  comes  with  its  waves,  and 
roars  on  its  hardened  sides.  Its  head  is  covered  with  foam,  and 
the  hills  are  echoing  around.  Now  from  the  gray  mist  of  the 
ocean,  the  white-sailed  ships  of  Fingal  appear. 

"  Now  from  the  ocean,  clad  with  azure  grey, 
The  white-sailed  vessels  of  Fingal  appear." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

High  is  the  grove  of  their  masts  as  they  nod,  by  turns,  on  the 
rolling  wave. 

Swaran  saw  them  from  the  hill,  and  returned  from  the  sons  of 
Erin.  As  ebbs  the  resounding  sea  through  the  hundred  isles  of 
Inistore,  so  loud,  so  vast,  so  immense  returned  the  sons  of  Loch- 
lin  against  the  king  of  the  desert  hill.  But  bending,  weeping, 
sad,  and  slow,  and  dragging  his  long  spear  behind,  CuchuUin 
sunk  in  Cromla' s  wood,  and  mourned  his  fallen  friends.  He 
feared  the  face  of  Fingal,  who  was  wont  to  greet  him  from  the 
fields  of  renown. 

"  How  many  lie  there  of  my  heroes  !  the  chiefs  of  Innisfail ! 
they  that  were  cheerful  in  the  hall,  when  the  sounds  of  the  shells 
arose.  No  more  shall  I  find  their  steps  in  the  heath,  or  hear 
their  voice  in  the  chase  of  the  hinds.  Pale,  silent,  low  on 
bloody  beds  are  they  who  were  my  friends  !  O  spirits  of  the 
lately  dead,  meet  CuchuUin  on  his  heath.  Converse  with  him 
on  the  wind,  when  the  rustling  tree  of  Tura's  cave  resounds. 
There,  far  remote,  I  shall  lie  unknown.  No  bard  shall  hear  of 
me.  No  gray  stone  shall  rise  lo  my  renown.  Mourn  me  with 
the  dead,  O  Bragela  !  departed  is  my  fame." 


346       LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

Such  were  the  words  of  Cuchullin,  when  he  sunk  in  the  woods 
of  Cromla. 

Fingal,  tall  in  his  ship,  stretched  his  bright  lance  before  him. 
Terrible  was  the  gleam  of  the  steel :  it  was  like  the  green  meteor 
of  death,  setting  in  the  heath  of  Malmor,  when  the  traveller  is 
alone,  and  the  broad  moon  is  darkened  in  heaven. 

*' The  battle  is  over,"  said  the  king,  ''and  I  behold  the  blood 
of  my  friends.  Sad  is  the  heath  of  Lena  !  and  mournful  the 
oaks  of  Cromla.  The  hunters  have  fallen  there  in  their  strength, 
and  the  son  of  Semo  is  no  more.  Ryno  and  Fillan,  my  sons, 
sound  the  horn  of  Fingal' s  war.  Ascend  that  hill  on  the  shore, 
and  call  the  children  of  the  foe.  Call  them  from  the  grave  of 
I^mdarg,  the  chief  of  other  times.  Be  your  voice  like  that  of 
your  father,  when  he  enters  the  battles  of  his  strength.  I  wait 
for  the  dark  mighty  man:  I  wait  on  Lena's  shore  for  Swaran. 
And  let  him  come  with  all  his  race ;  for  strong  in  battle  are  the 
friends  of  the  dead. ' ' 

Fair  Ryno  flew  like  lightning ;  dark  Fillan  as  the  shade  of 
autumn.  On  Lena's  heath  their  voice  is  heard  ;  the  sons  of 
ocean  heard  the  horn  of  Fingal' s  war.  As  the  roaring  eddy  of 
ocean  returning  from  the  kingdom  of  snows,  so  strong,  so  dark, 
so  sudden  came  down  the  sons  of  Lochlin.  The  king  in  their 
front  appears  in  the  dismal  pride  of  his  arms.  Wrath  burns  in 
his  dark -brown  face,  and  his  eyes  roll  in  the  fire  of  his  valor. 

Fingal  beheld  the  son  of  Starno,  and  he  remembered  Agan- 
decca.  For  Swaran  with  the  tears  of  youth  had  mourned  his 
white-bosomed  sister.  He  sent  Ullin  of  the  songs  to  bid  him  to 
the  feast  of  shells.  For  pleasant  on  Fingal' s  soul  returned  the 
remembrance  of  the  first  of  his  loves. 

Ullin  came  with  aged  steps,  and  spoke  to  Starno' s  son.  "  O 
thou  that  dwellest  afar,  surrounded,  like  a  rock,  with  thy  waves, 
come  to  the  feast  of  the  king,  and  pass  the  day  in  rest.  To- 
morrow let  us  fight,  O  Swaran,  and  break  the  echoing  shields." 

''To-day,"  said  Starno' s  wrathful  son,  "  we  break  the  echo- 
ing shields  ;  to  morrow  my  feast  will  be  spread,  and  Fingal  lie 
on  earth. ' ' 

"And,  to-morrow,  let  his  feast  be  spread,"  said  Fingal  with 
a  smile;  "for,  to-day,  O  my  sons,  we  shall  break  the  echoing 
shields.      Ossian,  stand  thou  near  my  arm.     Gaul,  lift  thy  terrible 


FINGAL.  347 

sword.  Fergus,  bend  thy  crooked  yew.  Throw,  Fillan,  thy 
lance  through  heaven.  Lift  your  shields  like  the  darkened 
moon.  Be  your  spears  the  meteors  of  death.  Follow  me  in  the 
path  of  my  fame,  and  equal  my  deeds  in  battle. ' ' 

As  a  hundred  winds  on  Morven  ;  as  the  streams  of  a  hundred 
hills  ;  as  clouds  fly  successive  over  heaven  ;  or,  as  the  dark  ocean 
assaults  the  shore  of  the  desert :  so  roaring,  so  vast,  so  terrible 
the  armies  mixed  on  Lena's  echoing  heath. 

**  In  Mora's  heath  they  slept :  the  surly  blast 
Of  dusky  night  loud  whistling  o'er  them  passed." 
— Cameron's  Ossian. 

The  groan  of  the  people  spread  over  the  hills ;  it  was  like  the 
thunder  of  night,  when  the  cloud  bursts  on  Cona,  and  a  thousand 
ghosts  shriek  at  once  on  the  hollow  wind. 

Fingal  rushed  on  in  his  strength,  terrible  as  the  spirit  of  Tren- 
mor,  when,  in  a  whirlwind,  he  comes  to  Morven  to  see  the 
children  of  his  pride.  The  oaks  resound  on  their  hills,  and  the 
rocks  fall  down  before  him.  Bloody  was  the  hand  of  my  father 
when  he  whirled  the  lightning  of  his  sword.  He  remembers  the 
battles  of  his  youth,  and  the  field  is  wasted  in  his  course. 

Ryno  went  on  like  a  pillar  of  fire.  Dark  is  the  brow  of  Gaul. 
Fergus  rushed  forward  with  feet  of  wind,  and  Fillan  like  the 
mist  of  the  hill.  Myself,  like  a  rock,  came  down,  I  exulted  in 
the  strength  of  the  king.  Many  were  the  deaths  of  my  arm, 
and  dismal  was  the  gleam  of  my  sword.  My  locks  were  not  then 
so  gray ;  nor  trembled  my  hands  of  age.  My  eyes  were  not 
closed  in  darkness ;  nor  failed  my  feet  in  the  race. 

Who  can  relate  the  deaths  of  the  people,  or  the  deeds  of 
mighty  heroes,  when  Fingal,  burning  in  his  wrath,  consumed 
the  sons  of  Lochlin  ?  Groans  swelled  on  groans,  from  hill  to 
hill,  till  night  had  covered  all.  Pale,  staring  like  a  herd  of 
deer,  the  sons  of  Lochlin  convene  on  Lena. 

We  sat  and  heard  the  sprightly  harp  at  Lubar's  gentle  stream. 
Fingal  himself  was  next  to  the  foe,  and  listened  to  the  tales  of 
bards.  His  godlike  race  were  in  the  song,  the  chiefs  of  other 
times.  Attentive,  leaning  on  his  shield,  the  king  of  Morven 
sat.  The  wind  whistled  through  his  aged  locks,  and  his  thoughts 
are  of  the  days  of  other  years.     Near  him,  on  his  bending  spear, 


348  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

my  young,  my  lovely  Oscar  stood.      He  admired  the   king  of 
Morven,  and  his  actions  were  swelling  in  his  soul. 

* '  Son  of  my  son, ' '  begun  the  king,  * '  O  Oscar,  pride  of  youth , 
I  saw  the  shining  of  thy  sword  and  gloried  in  my  race.  Pursue 
the  glory  of  our  fathers,  and  be  what  they  have  been ;  when 
Trenmor  lived,  the  first  of  men,  and  Trathal  the  father  of  heroes. 
'They  fought  the  battle  in  their  youth,  and  are  the  song  of  bards. 
O  Oscar  !  bend  the  strong  in  arms,  but  spare  the  feeble  hand. 
Be  thou  a  stream  of  many  tides  against  the  foes  of  thy  people, 
but  like  the  gale  that  moves  the  grass  to  those  who  ask  thine  aid. 
So  Trenmor  lived  ;  such  Trathal  was ;  and  such  has  Fingal  been. 
My  arm  was  the  support  of  the  injured,  and  the  weak  rested  be- 
hind the  lightning  of  my  steel. 

"Oscar!  I  was  young  like  thee,  when  lovely  Fainafollis 
came  :  that  sunbeam  !  that  mild  light  of  love  !  the  daughter  of 
Craca's  king  !  I  then  returned  from  Cona's  heath,  and  few  were 
in  my  train.  A  white-sailed  boat  appeared  far  off ;  we  saw  it 
like  a  mist  that  rode  on  ocean's  blast.  It  soon  approached  ;  we 
saw  the  fair.  Her  white  breast  heaved  with  sighs.  The  wind 
was  in  her  loose  dark  hair  ;  her  rosy  cheek  had  tears.  '  Daughter 
of  beauty, '  calm  I  said,  '  what  sigh  is  in  that  breast  ?  Can  I, 
young  as  I  am,  defend  thee,  daughter  of  the  sea  ?  My  sword  is 
not  unmatched  in  war,  but  dauntless  is  my  heart.' 

"  'To  thee  I  fly,'  with  sighs  she  replied,  'O  chief  of  mighty 
men  !  To  thee  I  fly,  chief  of  shells,  supporter  of  the  feeble 
hand  !  The  king  of  Craca's  echoing  isle  owned  me  the  sun- 
beam of  his  race.  And  often  did  the  hills  of  Cromla  reply  to 
the  sighs  of  love  for  the  unhappy  Fainafollis.  Sora's  chief  be- 
held me  fair,  and  loved  the  daughter  of  Craca.  His  sword  is 
like  a  beam  of  light  upon  the  warrior's  side.  But  dark  is  his 
brow,  and  tempests  are  in  his  soul.  I  shun  him  on  the  rolling 
sea;  but  Sora's  chief  pursues.' 

*'  O  king  of  shells  !  to  thee,  distressed,  I  fly  ; 
Renowned  defender  of  the  helpless  maid. 
Now  one  in  misery  implores  thy  aid." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

** '  Rest  thou,'  I  said,  '  behind  my  shield  ;  rest  in  peace,  thou 
beam  of  light !  The  gloomy  chief  of  Sora  will  fly,  if  Fingal' s 
arm  is  like  his  soul.     In  some  lone  cave  I  might  conceal  thee, 


FINOAL.  349 

daughter  of  the  sea  !  But  Fingal  never  flies ;  for  where  the 
danger  threatens,  I  rejoice  in  the  storm  of  spears.'  I  saw  the 
tears  upon  her  cheek.      I  pitied  Craca's  fair. 

' '  Now,  like  a  dreadful  wave  afar,  appeared  the  ship  of  stormy 
Borbar.  His  masts  high-bended  over  the  sea  behind  their  sheets 
of  snow.  White  roll  the  waters  on  either  side.  The  strength- 
of  ocean  sounds.  'Come  thou,'  I  said,  *  from  the  roar  of 
ocean,  thou  rider  of  the  storm.  Partake  the  feast  within  my 
hall.  It  is  the  house  of  strangers. '  The  maid  stood  trembling 
by  my  side  ;  he  drew  the  bow  :  she  fell.  '  Unerring  is  thy 
hand,'  I  said,  'but  feeble  was  the  foe.'  We  fought,  nor  weak 
was  the  strife  of  death  :  He  sunk  beneath  my  sword.  We  laid 
them  in  two  tombs  of  stones ;  the  unhappy  children  of  youth. 
Such  have  I  been  in  my  youth,  O  Oscar ;  be  thou  like  the  age 
of  Fingal.     Never  seek  the  battle,  nor  shun  it  when  it  comes. 

**  Such  in  my  youth,  O  Oscar,  have  I  been  ; 
And  when  in  years  resemble  Fingal — 
The  baUle  never  seek,  yet  when  it  comes 
Maintain  thy  ground, ' ' 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

*'  Fillan  and  Oscar  of  the  dark-brown  hair  ;  ye  children  of  the 
race ;  fly  over  the  heath  of  roaring  winds,  and  view  the  sons  of 
Lochlin.  Far  off"  I  hear  the  noise  of  their  fear,  like  the  storms 
of  echoing  Cona.  Go  ;  that  they  may  not  fly  my  sword  along 
the  waves  of  the  north.  For  many  chiefs  of  Erin's  race  lie  here 
on  the  dark  bed  of  death.  The  children  of  the  storm  are  low ; 
the  sons  of  echoing  Cromla," 

The  heroes  flew  like  two  dark  clouds ;  two  dark  clouds  that 
are  the  chariots  of  ghosts,  when  air's  dark  children  come  to 
frighten  hapless  men. 

It  was  then  that  Gaul,  the  son  of  Morni,  stood  like  a  rock  in 
the  night.  His  spear  is  glittering  to  the  stars  ;  his  voice  like 
many  streams.  "  Son  of  battle, "  cried  the  chief,  "O  Fingal, 
king  of  shells  !  let  the  bards  of  many  songs  soothe  Erin's  friends 
to  rest.  And,  Fingal,  sheathe  thy  sword  of  death,  and  let  thy 
people  fight.  We  wither  away  without  our  fame  ;  for  our  king 
is  the  only  breaker  of  shields.  When  morning  rises  on  our  hills, 
behold  at  a  distance  our  deeds.  Let  Lochlin  feel  the  sword  of 
Morni' s  son,  that  bards  may  sing  of  me.     Such  was  the  custom 


3 50  LEGEND AR Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

heretofore  of  Fingal's  noble  race.     Such  was  thine  own,  thou 
king  of  swords,  in  battles  of  the  spear." 

*'0  son  of  Morni,"  Fingal  replied,  ''I  glory  in  thy  fame. 
Fight ;  but  my  spear  shall  be  near  to  aid  thee  in  the  midst  of 
danger.  Raise,  raise  the  voice,  sons  of  the  song,  and  lull  me 
into  rest.  Here  will  Fingal  lie  amidst  the  wind  of  night.  And 
if  thou,  Agandecca,  art  near,  among  the  children  of  thy  land — 
if  thou  sittest  on  a  blast  of  wind  among  the  high-shrouded  masts 
of  Lochlin — come  to  my  dreams,  my  fair  one,  and  show  thy 
bright  face  to  my  soul," 

Many  a  voice  and  many  a  harp  in  tuneful  sounds  arose.  Of 
Fingal's  noble  deeds  they  sung,  and  of  the  noble  race  of  the 
hero. 

**  In  greatest  concert  of  symphonious  sound 
Then  many  a  harp  and  many  a  sound  arose." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

And  sometimes  on  the  lovely  sound  was  heard  the  name  of  the 
now  mournful  Ossian. 

Often  have  I  fought,  and  often  won  in  battles  of  the  spear. 
But  blind,  and  tearful,  and  forlorn  I  now  walk  with  little  men. 
O  Fingal,  with  thy  race  of  battle  I  now  behold  thee  not.  The 
wild  roes  feed  upon  the  green  tomb  of  the  mighty  king  of 
Morven.  Blest  be  thy  soul,  thou  king  of  swords,  thou  most  re- 
nowned on  the  hills  of  Cona  ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Fingal's  Feast — The  Song  of  Peace — Marriage  of  Tren- 

mor  with    Inibaca — Grumal — The  Hunting 

Party — Discovery  of  Cuchullin — His 

Departure  for   Scotland. 

The  clouds  of  night  come  rolling  down,  and  rest  on  Cromla's 
dark -brown  steep.  The  stars  of  the  north  arise  over  the  rolling 
of  the  waves  of  Ullin  ;  they  show  their  heads  of  fire  through  the 
flying  mist  of  heaven.  A  distant  wind  roars  in  the  wood ;  but 
silent  and  dark  is  the  plain  of  death. 

Still  on  the  darkening  Lena  arose  in  my  ears  the  tuneful  voice 
of  Carril.  He  sung  of  the  companions  of  our  youth,  and  the 
days  of  former  years ;  when  we  met  on  the  banks  of  Lego,  and 
sent  round  the  joy  of  the  shell.  Cromla,  with  its  cloudy  steeps, 
answered  to  his  voice.  The  ghosts  of  those  he  sung  came  in 
the  rustling  blasts.  They  were  seen  to  bend  with  joy  towards 
the  sound  of  their  praise. 

Be  thy  soul  blest,  O  Carril,  in  the  midst  of  thy  eddying  winds. 
O  that  thou  would  come  to  my  hall  when  I  am  alone  by  night ! 
And  thou  dost  come,  my  friend  ;  I  hear  often  thy  light  hand  on 
my  harp  when  it  hangs  on  the  distant  wall,  and  the  feeble 
sound  touches  my  ear.  Why  dost  thou  not  speak  to  me  in  my 
grief,  and  tell  when  I  shall  behold  my  friends  ?     But  thou  passest 

(351) 


3  5  ^  L^GmDAK  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

away  in  thy  murmuring  blast,  and  thy   wind  whistles  through 
the  gray  hair  of  Ossian. 

**  Why  will  you  not  converse,  and  let  me  know 
How  long,  detained  in  banishment  below, 
Among  ignoble  men,  I  here  must  pine 
Before  allowed  my  kindred  souls  to  join?" 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

Now  on  the  side  of  Mora  the  heroes  gathered  to  the  feast.  A 
thousand  aged  oaks  are  burning  to  the  wind.  The  strength'  of 
the  shells  goes  round.  And  the  souls  of  warriors  brighten  with 
joy.  But  the  king  of  Lochlin  is  silent,  and  sorrow  reddens  in 
the  eyes  of  his  pride.  He  often  turned  toward  Lena  and  remem- 
bered that  he  fell. 

Fingal  leaned  on  the  shield  of  his  fathers.  His  gray  locks 
slowly  waved  on  the  wind,  and  glittered  to  the  beam  of  night. 
He  saw  the  grief  of  Swaran,  and  spoke  to  the  first  of  bards. 

**  Raise,  Ullin,  raise  the  song  of  peace,  and  soothe  my  soul  after 
battle,  that  my  ear  may  forget  the  noise  of  arms.  And  let  a  hun- 
dred harps  be  near  to  gladden  the  king  of  Lochlin.  He  must 
depart  from  us  with  joy. — None  ever  went  sad  from  Fingal. 
Oscar !  the  lightning  of  my  sword  is  against  the  strong  in 
battle ;  but  peaceful  it  lies  by  my  side  when  warriors  yield  in 
war." 

''  Trenmor,"^  said  the  mouth  of  the  songs,  "  lived  in  the  days 
of  other  years.  He  bounded  over  the  waves  of  the  north  :  com- 
panion of  the  storm.  The  high  rocks  of  the  land  of  Lochlin 
and  its  groves  of  murmuring  sounds  appeared  to  the  hero  thrpugh 
the  mist ;  he  bound  his  white-bosomed  sails.  Trenmor  pursued 
the  boar  that  roared  along  the  woods  of  Gormal.  Many  had  fled 
from  its  presence  ;  but  the  spear  of  Trenmor  slew  it. 

''Three  chiefs,  that  beheld  the  deed,  told  of  the  mighty 
stranger.  They  told  that  he  stood  like  a  pillar  of  fire  in  the 
bright  arms  of  his  valor.  The  king  of  Lochlin  prepared  the 
feast,  and  called  the  blooming  Trenmor.  Three  days  he 
feasted  at  Gormal' s  windy  towers,  and  got  his  choice  in  the 
combat. 

^  By  the  strength  of  the  shell  is  meant  the  liquor  the  heroes  drunk  ;  of  what 
kind  it  was,  cannot  be  ascertained  at  this  distance  of  time. 

'^  Trenmor  was  great-grandfather  to  Fingal.  The  story  is  introduced  to 
facilitate  the  dismission  of  Swaran. 


FINQAL.  353 

*'The  land  of  Lochlin  had  no  hero  that  yielded  not  to  Tren- 
mor.  The  shell  of  joy  went  round  with  songs  in  praise  of  the 
king  of  Morven ;  he  that  came  over  the  waves,  the  first  of 
mighty  men. 

*'Now,  when  the  fourth  gray  morn  arose,  the  hero  launched 
his  ship,  and  walking  along  the  silent  shore  waited  for  the  rush- 
ing wind.  For  loud  and  distant  he  heard  the  blast  murmuring 
in  the  grove. 

*'  Covered  over  with  arms  of  steel  a  son  of  the  woody  Gormal 
appeared.  Red  was  his  cheek  and  fair  his  hair.  His  skin  like 
the  snow  of  Morven.  Mild  rolled  his  blue  and  smaling  eye  when 
he  spoke  to  the  king  of  swords. 

"  '  Stay,  Trenmor,  stay,  thou  first  of  men,  thou  hast  not  con- 
quered Lonval's  son.  My  sword  has  often  met  the  brave.  And 
the  wise  shun  the  strength  of  my  bow. ' 

''  '  Thou  fair  haired  youth,'  Trenmor  replied,  *I  will  not  fight 
with  Lonval's  son.  Thine  arm  is  feeble,  sunbeam  of  beauty. 
Retire  to  Gormal' s  dark-brown  hinds.' 

"  Thou  fair-haired  youth,  thy  beauty  proves  thee  young ; 
Those  showy  arms  cannot  in  war  be  strong. 
Go,  chase  the  dark-brown  deer  of  Gormal' s  Hill 
And  give  thy  vaunted  arrows  wings  to  kill." 

— Cameron's  OssiAN. 

*''But  I  will  retire,'  replied  the  youth,  '  with  the  sword  of 
Trenmor,  and  exult  in  the  sound  of  my  fame.  The  virgins 
shall  gather  with  smiles  around  him  who  conquered  Trenmor. 
They  shall  sigh  with  the  sighs  of  love,  and  admire  the  length  of 
thy  spear,  when  I  shall  carry  it  among  thousands,  and  lift  the 
glittering  point  to  the  sun.' 

"  *Thou  shalt  never  carry  my  spear,'  said  the  angry  king  of 
Morven.  '  Thy  mother  shall  find  thee  pale  on  the  shore  of  the 
echoing  Gormal ;  and,  looking  over  the  dark-blue  deep,  see  the 
sails  of  him  that  slew  her  son. ' 

''  '  I  will  not  lift  the  spear,'  replied  the  youth,  ^  my  arm  is  not 
strong  with  years.  But  with  the  feathered  dart  I  have  learned 
to  pierce  a  distant  foe.  Throw  down  that  heavy  mail  of  steel ; 
for  Trenmor  is  covered  all  over.  I  first  will  lay  my  mail  on 
earth.     Throw  now  thy  dart,  thou  king  of  Morven.' 


354  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

"  He  saw  the  heaving  of  her  breast.  It  was  the  sister  of  the 
king.  She  had  seen  him  in  the  halls  of  Gormal,  and  loved  his 
face  of  youth.  The  spear  dropt  from  the  hand  of  Trenmor  !  he 
bent  his  red  cheek  to  the  ground,  for  he  had  seen  her  like  a 
beam  of  light  that  meets  the  sons  of  the  cave,  when  they  revisit 
the  fields  of  the  sun,  and  bend  their  aching  eyes. 

*'  '  Chief  of  the  windy  Morven,'  begun  the  maid  of  the  arms 
of  snow,  '  let  me  rest  in  thy  bounding  ship,  far  from  the  love 
of  Corla.  For  he,  like  the  thunder  of  the  desert,  is  terrible  to 
Inibaca.  He  loves  me  in  the  gloom  of  his  pride,  and  shakes 
ten  thousand  spears.' 

***Rest  thou  in  peace,'  said  the  mighty  Trenmor,  'behind 
the  shield  of  my  fathers.  I  will  not  fly  from  the  chief,  though 
he  shakes  ten  thousand  spears. ' 

** Three  days  he  waited  on  the  shore;  and  sent  his  horn 
abroad.  He  called  Corla  to  battle  from  all  his  echoing  hills. 
But  Corla  came  not  to  battle.  The  king  of  Lochlin  descended. 
He  feasted  on  the  roaring  shore ;  and  gave  the  maid  to  Tren- 
mor. ' ' 

''King  of  Lochlin,"  said  Fingal,  "  thy  blood  flows  in  the 
veins  of  thy  foe.  Our  families  met  in  battle,  because  they  loved 
the  strife  of  spears.  But  often  did  they  feast  in  the  hall ;  and 
send  round  the  joy  of  the  shell.  Let  thy  face  brighten  with 
gladness,  and  thine  ear  delight  in  the  harp.  Dreadful  as  the 
storm  of  thine  ocean  thou  hast  poured  thy  valor  forth  ;  thy  voice 
has  been  like  the  voice  of  thousands  when  they  engage  in  battle. 
Raise,  to-morrow,  thy  white  sails  to  the  wind,  thou  brother  of 
Agandecca.  Bright  as  the  beam  of  noon  she  comes  on  my 
mournful  soul.  I  saw  thy  tears  for  the  fair  one,  and  spared  thee 
in  the  halls  of  Starno,  when  my  sword  was  red  with  slaughter, 
and  my  eye  full  of  tears  for  the  maid.  Or  dost  thou  choose  the 
fight?  The  combat  which  thy  fathers  gave  to  Trenmor  is  thine, 
that  thou  mayest  depart  renowned  like  the  sun  setting  in  the 
west." 

"King  of  the  race  of  Morven,"  said  the  chief  of  the  waves 
of  Lochlin,  "never  will  Swaran  fight  with  thee,  first  of  a  thou- 
sand heroes  !  I  saw  thee  in  the  halls  of  Starno,  and  few  were 
thy  years  beyond  my  own.  When  shall  I,  said  I  to  my  soul, 
lift  the  spear  like  the  noble  Fingal  ? 


FTNGAL.  355 

**  I  said  to  my  soul  at  the  time, 
When  shall  I  raise  the  sword  with  power 
Like  Fingal  of  the  noble  blows?" 

— Clerk's  Ossian. 

We  have  fought  heretofore,  O  \varrior,  on  the  side  of  the  shaggy 
Mahnor ;  after  my  waves  had  carried  me  to  thy  halls,  and  the 
feast  of  a  thousand  shells  was  spread.  Let  the  bards  send  his 
fame  who  overcame  to  future  years,  for  noble  was  the  strife  of 
Malmor. 

"  But  many  of  the  ships  of  Lochlin  have  lost  their  youths  on 
Lena.  Take  these,  thou  king  of  Morven,  and  be  the  friend  of 
Swaran.  And  when  thy  sons  shall  come  to  the  mossy  towers  of 
Gormal,  the  feast  of  shells  shall  be  spread,  and  the  combat 
offered  on  the  vale." 

''Nor  ship,"  replied  the  king,  ''shall  Fingal  take,  norland 
of  many  hills.  The  desert  is  enough  to  me  with  all  its  deer  and 
woods.  Rise  on  thy  waves  again,  thou  noble  friend  of  Agan- 
decca.  Spread  thy  white  sails  to  the  beam  of  the  morning,  and 
return  to  the  echoing  hills  of  Gormal." 

'*  Blest  be  thy  soul,  thou  king  of  shells,"  said  Swaran  of  the 
dark-brown  shield.  "  In  peace  thou  art  the  gale  of  spring.  In 
war  the  mountain -storm.  Take  now  my  hand  in  friendship,  thou 
noble  king  of  Morven.  Let  thy  bards  mourn  those  who  fell. 
Let  Erin  give  the  sons  of  Lochlin  to  earth,  and  raise  the  mossy 
stones  of  their  fame.  That  the  children  of  the  north  hereafter 
may  behold  the  place  where  their  fathers  fought.  And  some 
hunter  may  say,  when  he  leans  on  a  mossy  tomb,  here  Fingal 
and  Swaran  fought,  the  heroes  of  other  years.  Thus  hereafter 
shall  he  say,  and  our  fame  shall  last  forever  !" 

"Swaran,"  said  the  king  of  the  hills,  ''to-day  our  fame  is 
greatest.  We  shall  pass  away  like  a  dream.  No  sound  will  be 
in  the  fields  of  our  battles.  Our  tombs  will  be  lost  in  the  heath. 
The  hunter  shall  not  know  the  place  of  our  rest.  Our  names 
may  be  heard  in  song,  but  the  strength  of  our  arms  will  cease. 
O  Ossian,  Carril,  and  Ullin,  you  know  of  heroes  that  are  no 
more.  Give  us  the  song  of  other  years.  Let  the  night  pass 
away  on  the  sound,  and  morning  return  with  joy." 

**  Ruler  of  the  sea, 
Life  like  a  vision  passes  soon  away. 


3  $6  LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

To-day  victorious,  our  full  honors  blow, 
To-morrow  death  unplumes  and  lays  us  low." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

We  gave  the  song  to  the  kings,  and  a  hundred  harps  accom- 
panied our  voice.  The  face  of  Swaran  brightened  hke  the  full 
moon  of  heaven,  when  the  clouds  vanish  away,  and  leave  her 
calm  and  broad  in  the  midst  of  the  sky. 

It  was  then  that  Fingal  spoke  to  Carril  the  chief  of  other 
times.  **  Where  is  the  son  of  Semo  ;  the  king  of  the  isle  of 
mist  ?  has  he  retired,  like  the  meteor  of  death,  to  the  dreary 
cave  of  Tura?" 

**Cuchullin,"  said  Carril  of  other  times,  'Mies  in  the  dreary 
cave  of  Tura.  His  hand  is  on  the  sword  of  his  strength.  His 
thoughts  on  the  battle  which  he  lost.  Mournful  is  the  king  of 
spears  ;  for  he  has  often  been  victorious.  He  sends  the  sword 
of  his  war  to  rest  on  the  side  of  Fingal.  For,  like  the  storm  of 
the  desert,  thou  hast  scattered  all  his  foes.  Take,  O  Fingal,  the 
sword  of  the  hero  ;  for  his  fame  is  departed  like  mist  when  it 
flies  before  the  rustling  wind  of  the  vale. ' ' 

**  No,"  replied  the  king,  "  Fingal  shall  never  take  his  sword. 
His  arm  is  mighty  in  war ;  his  fame  shall  never  fail.  Many  have 
been  overcome  in  battle,  that  have  shone  afterwards  like  the  sun 
of  heaven. 

**  O  Swaran,  king  of  the  resounding  woods,  give  all  thy  grief 
away.  The  vanquished,  if  brave,  are  renowned  ;  they  are  like 
the  sun  in  a  cloud  when  he  hides  his  face  in  the  south,  but  looks 
again  on  the  hills  of  grass. 

''  Grumal  was  a  chief  of  Cona.  He  fought  the  battle  on  every 
coast.  His  soul  rejoiced  in  blood  ;  his  ear  in  the  din  of  arms. 
He  poured  his  warriors  on  the  sounding  Craca,  and  Craca's 
king  met  him  from  his  grove  ;  for  then  within  the  circle  of 
Brumo'  he  spoke  to  the  stone  of  power. 

"Fierce  was  the  battle  of  the  heroes,  for  the  maid  of  the 
breast  of  snow.  The  fame  of  the  daughter  of  Craca  had  reached 
Grumal  at  the  streams  of  Cona  ;  he  vowed  to  have  the  white- 
bosomed  maid,  or  die  on  the  echoing  Craca.  Three  days  they 
strove  together,  and  Grumal  on  the  fourth  was  bound. 

^  This  passage  alludes  to  the  religion  of  the  king  of  Craca. 


FINGAL.  357 

''  Far  from  his  friends  they  placed  him  in  the  horrid  circle  of 
Bruma ;  where  often,  they  said,  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  howled 
round  the  stone  of  their  fear.  But  afterwards  he  shone  like  a 
pillar  of  the  light  of  heaven.  They  fell  by  his  mighty  hand, 
and  Grumal  had  his  fame. 

"Raise,  ye  bards  of  other  times,  raise  high  the  praise  of 
heroes,  that  my  soul  may  settle  on  their  fame,  and  the  mind 
of  Swaran  cease  to  be  sad." 

They  lay  in  the  heath  of  Mora ;  the  dark  winds  rustled  over 
the  heroes.  A  hundred  voices  at  once  arose,  a  hundred  harps 
were  strung ;  they  sung  of  other  times,  and  the  mighty  chiefs  of 
former  years. 

When  now  shall  I  hear  the  bard,  or  rejoice  at  the  fame  of  my 
fathers  ?  The  harp  is  not  strung  on  Morven,  nor  the  voice  of 
music  raised  on  Cona.  Dead  with  the  mighty  is  the  bard,  and 
the  fame  is  in  the  desert  no  more. 

Morning  trembles  with  the  beam  of  the  east,  and  glimmers  on 
gray-headed  Cromla.  Over  Lena  is  heard  the  horn  of  Swaran, 
and  the  sons  of  the  ocean  gather  around.  Silent  and  sad  they 
mount  the  wave,  and  the  blast  of  UUin  is  behind  their  sails. 
White,  as  the  mist  of  Morven,  they  float  along  the  sea. 

*'Call,"  said  Fingal,  ''call  my  dogs,  the  long  bounding  sons 
of  the  chase.  Call  white -breasted  Bran  ;  and  the  surly  strength 
of  Luath.     Fillan,  and  Ryno,  but  he  is  not  here  ! 

"  Let  Ryno  ;  but,  alas  !  upon  the  heath 
He  slumbers  silent  in  the  bed  of  death." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

My  son  rests  on  the  bed  of  death.  Fillan  and  Fergus,  blow  my 
horn,  that  the  joy  of  the  chase  may  arise ;  that  the  deer  of 
Cromla  may  hear  and  start  at  the  lake  of  roes." 

The  shrill  sound  spreads  along  the  wood.  The  sons  of  heathy 
Cromla  arise.  A  thousand  dogs  fly  off  at  once,  gray -bounding 
through  the  heath.  A  deer  fell  by  every  dog,  and  three  by  the 
white  breasted  Bran.  He  brought  them,  in  their  flight,  to  Fin- 
gal, that  the  joy  of  the  king  might  be  great. 

One  deer  fell  at  the  tomb  of  Ryno  ;  and  the  grief  of  Fingil 
returned.  He  saw  how  peaceful  lay  the  stone  of  him  who  was 
the  first  at  the  chase.      ''  No  more  shalt  thou  rise,  O  my  son,  to 


358  LEG  END  AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

partake  of  the  feast  of  Cromla.  Soon  will  thy  tomb  be  hid,  and 
the  grass  grow  rank  on  thy  grave.  The  sons  of  the  feeble  shall 
pass  over  it,  and  shall  not  know  that  the  mighty  lie  there. 

*'  Ossian  and  Fillan,  sons  of  my  strength,  and  Gaul,  king  of 
the  blue  swords  of  war,  let  us  ascend  the  hill  to  the  cave  of  Tura, 
and  find  the  chief  of  the  battles  of  Erin.  Are  these  the  walls  of 
Tura?  gray  and  lonely  they  rise  on  the  heath.  The  king  of 
shells  is  sad,  and  the  halls  are  desolate.  Come,  let  us  find  the 
king  of  swords,  and  give  him  all  our  joy.      But  is  that  Cuchullin, 


Fingal's  Cave. 

O  Fillan,  or  a  pillar  of  smoke  on  the  heath  ?  The  wind  of 
Cromla  is  on  my  eyes,  and  I  distinguish  not  my  friend." 

**Fingal !"  replied  the  youth,  'Mt  is  the  son  of  Semo.  Gloomy 
and  sad  is  the  hero  ;  his  hand  is  on  his  sword.  Hail  to  the  son 
of  battle,  breaker  of  the  shields  ! ' ' 

*'  Hail  to  thee,"  replied  Cuchullin,  ^'hail  to  all  the  sons  of 
Morven.  Delightful  is  thy  presence,  O  Fingal ;  it  is  like  the  sun 
on  Cromla,  when  the  hunter  mourns  his  absence  for  a  season, 
and  sees  him  between  the  clouds. 

**  Great  P'ingal,  thy  sight 
Gives  to  my  troubled  soul  unfeigned  delight. 


FINGAL.  359 

So  joys  the  hunter  when  the  sun  returned 
On  Cromla." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

Thy  sons  are  like  stars  that  attend  thy  course,  and  give  light  in 
the  night.  It  is  not  thus  thou  hast  seen  me,  O  Fingal,  return- 
ing from  the  wars  of  the  desert ;  when  the  kings  of  the  world 
had  fled,  and  joy  returned  to  the  hill  of  hinds." 

*'Many  are  thy  words,  Cuchullin,"  said  Connan  of  small 
renown.  *'Thy  words  are  many,  son  of  Semo,  but  where  are 
thy  deeds  in  arms  ?  Why  did  we  come  over  the  ocean  to  aid 
thy  feeble  sword?  Thou  flyest  to  thy  cave  of  sorrow,  and  Con- 
nan  fights  thy  battles.  Resign  to  me  these  arms  of  light ;  yield 
them,  thou  son  of  Erin. ' ' 

^'No  hero,"  replied  the  chief,  *'ever  fought  the  arms  of 
Cuchullin ;  and  had  a  thousand  heroes  fought  them  it  were  in 
vain,  thou  gloomy  youth.  I  fled  not  to  the  cave  of  sorrow  as 
long  as  Erin's  warriors  lived." 

*' Youth  of  the  feeble  arm,"  said  Fingal,  *' Connan,  say  no 
more.  Cuchullin  is  renowned  in  battle,  and  terrible  over  the 
desert.  Often  have  I  heard  thy  fame,  thou  stormy  chief  of  Innis- 
fail.  Spread  now  thy  white  sails  for  the  isle  of  mist,  and  see 
Bragela  leaning  on  her  rock.  Her  tender  eye  is  in  tears,  and 
the  winds  lift  her  long  hair  from  her  heaving  breast.  She  listens 
to  the  winds  of  night  to  hear  the  voice  of  thy  rowers  ;^  to  hear 
the  song  of  the  sea,  and  the  sound  of  thy  distant  harp." 

'*And  long  shall  she  listen  in  vain;  Cuchullin  shall  never 
return.  How  can  I  behold  Bragela,  to  raise  the  sigh  of  her 
breast  ?  Fingal,  I  was  always  victorious  in  the  battles  of  other 
spears  ! ' ' 

* '  And  hereafter  thou  shalt  be  victorious, ' '  said  Fingal  king  of 
shells.  *^The  fame  of  Cuchullin  shall  grow  like  the  branchy 
tree  of  Cromla.  Many  battles  await  thee,  O  chief,  and  many 
shall  be  the  wounds  of  thy  hand. 

**  Thou  shalt  still  succeed 
In  future  wars,  and  make  the  mighty  bleed 
Like  Cromla' s  tree,  far-shooting  to  the  skies." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

^  The  practice  of  singing  when  they  row  is  universal  among  the  inhabitants 
of  the  northwest  coast  of  Scotland  and  the  isles.  It  deceives  time,  and  in 
spirits  the  rowers. 


3  6o       LEGEND  A  R  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

Bring  hither,  Oscar,  the  deer,  and  prepare  the  feast  of  shells  ; 
that  our  souls, may  rejoice  after  danger,  and  our  friends  delight 
in  our  presence. ' ' 

We  sat,  we  feasted,  and  we  sung.  The  soul  of  CuchuUin  rose. 
The  strength  of  his  arm  returned,  and  gladness  brightened  on 
his  face.  Ullin  gave  the  song,  and  Carril  raised  the  voice.  I 
often  joined  the  bards,  and  sung  of  battles  of  the  spear.  Bat- 
!  ties  !  where  I  often  fought ;  but  now  I  fight  no  more.  The  fame 
'of  my  former  actions  is  ceased;  and  I  sit  forlorn  at  the  tombs 
of  my  friends. 

Thus  they  passed  the  night  in  the  song,  and  brought  back  the 
morning  with  joy.  Fingal  arose  on  the  heath,  and  shook  his 
glittering  spear.  He  moved  first  toward  the  plains  of  Lena,  and 
we  followed  like  a  ridge  of  fire.  ''Spread  the  sail,"  said  the 
king  of  Morven,  ' '  and  catch  the  winds  that  pour  from  Lena. ' ' 

"  We  straight  obeyed, 
And  to  the  whistling  blast  our  sails  displayed, 
Then  sat  and  sung." 

— Cameron's  Ossian. 

We  rose  on  the  wave  with  songs,  and  rushed,  with  joy,  through 
the  foam  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Landing  of  Fingal — The  Council  of  the  Chiefs— 
Cairbar's  Feast — Oscar,  the  Son  of  Ossian — Oscar 
Wounded  —  Fingal' s   Arrival   on   the    Field- 
Mourning  for  Oscar — The  Death  of  Cormac. 

Tem'o-ra.^ 

The  blue  waves  of  Ullin  roll  in  light.  The  green  hills  are 
covered  with  day.  Trees  shake  their  dusky  heads  in  the  breeze. 
Gray  torrents  pour  their  noisy  streams.  Two  green  hills,  with 
aged  oaks,  surround  a  narrow  plain.  The  blue  course  of  a  stream 
is  there  ;  on  its  banks  stood  Cairbar  of  Atha.  His  spear  sup- 
ports the  king  :  the  red  eyes  of  his  fear  are  sad.  Cormac  rises 
in  his  soul,  with  all  his  ghastly  wounds.  The  gray  form  of  the 
youth  appears  in  darkness  ;  blood  pours  from  his  airy  sides. 
Cairbar  thrice  threw  his  spear  on  earth,  and  thrice  he  stroked 
his  beard.  His  steps  are  short ;  he  often  stops,  and  tosses  his 
sinewy  arms.  He  is  like  a  cloud  in  the  desert,  that  varies  its 
form  to  every  blast :  the  valleys  are  sad  around,  and  fear,  by 
turns,  the  shower. 

The  king,  at  length,  resumed  his  soul,  and  took  his  pointed 

spear. 

'*  At  length  the  king  his  drooping  soul  resumed 
And  took  his  pointed  spear." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

^  Temora  was  the  name  of  a  palace  in  Ulster.  Cairbar  had  murdered  Cor 
mac  and  usurped  the  throne.     Fingal  the  Caledonian  king  invaded  Ireland  to 

{  361  ) 


362  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY, 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  Moi-lena.  The  scouts  of  blue  ocean 
came.  They  came  with  steps  of  fear,  and  often  looked  behind. 
Cairbar  knew  that  the  mighty  were  near,  and  called  his  gloomy 
chiefs. 

The  sounding  steps  of  his  warriors  came.  They  drew,  at 
once,  their  swords.  There  Morlath  stood  with  darkened  face. 
Hidalla's  long  hair  sighs  in  wind.  Red-haired  Cormar  bends  on 
his  spear,  and  rolls  his  sidelong-looking  eyes.  Wild  is  the 
look  of  Malthos  from  beneath  two  shaggy  brows.  Foldath  stands 
like  an  oozy  rock,  that  covers  its  dark  sides  with  foam.  His 
spear  is  like  Slimora's  fir,  that  meets  the  wind  of  heaven.  His 
shield  is  marked  with  the  strokes  of  battle,  and  his  red  eye 
despises  danger.  These  and  a  thousand  other  chiefs  surrounded 
car-borne  Cairbar,  when  the  scout  of  ocean  came.  Mor-annal, 
from  streamy  Moi-lena.  His  eyes  hang  forward  from  his  face, 
his  lips  are  trembling,  pale. 

''  Do  the  chiefs  of  Erin  stand,"  he  said,  ''  silent  as  the  grove 
01  evening  ?  Stand  they,  like  a  silent  wood,  and  Fingal  on  the 
coast  ?  Fingal,  the  terrible  in  battle,  the  king  of  streamy  Mor- 
ven." 

'*Hast  thou  seen  the  warrior?"  said  Cairbar  with  a  sigh. 
"  Are  his  heroes  many  on  the  coast  ?  Lifts  he  the  spear  of  bat- 
tle ?    Or  comes  the  king  in  peace  ?' ' 

"In  peace  he  comes  not,  Cairbar.  I  have  seen  his  forward 
spear.  It  is  a  meteor  of  death  ;  the  blood  of  thousands  is  on 
its  steel.  He  came  first  to  the  shore,  strong  in  the  gray  hair  of 
age.  Full  rose  his  sinewy  limbs,  as  he  strode  in  his  might. 
That  sword  is  by  his  side  which  gives  no  second^  wound.  His 
shield  is  terrible,  like  the  bloody  moon  ascending  through  a 
storm. 

* '  As  wades  the  moon 
Like  blood  ascending  through  the  turbid  storm, 
Tremendous  is  his  shield.' ' 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

re-establish  the  rightful  authority.  The  scene  is  laid  near  the  hill  of  Mora  in 
the  North  of  Ireland, 

1  This  was  the  famous  sword  of  Fingal,  made  by  Luno,  a  smith  of  Lochlin, 
and  after  him  poetically  called  the  son  of  Luno  :  it  is  said  of  this  sword  that 
it  killed  a  man  at  every  stroke,  and  that  Fingal  never  used  it  but  in  times  of 
the  greatest  danger. 


TEMORA.  363 

Then  came  Ossian,  king  of  songs;  and  Morni's  son,  the  first 
of  men.  Connal  leaps  forward  on  his  spear :  Dermit  spreads 
his  dark-brown  locks.  Fillan  bends  his  bow,  the  young  hunter 
of  streamy  Moruth.  But  who  is  that  before  them,  like  the 
dreadful  course  of  a  stream  ?  It  is  the  son  of  Ossian,  bright 
between  his  locks.  His  long  hair  falls  on  his  back.  His  dark 
brows  are  half  inclosed  in  steel.  His  sword  hangs  loose  on  his  , 
side.  His  spear  glitters  as  he  moves.  I  fled  from  his  terrible 
eyes,  king  of  high  Temora." 

"Then  fly,  thou  feeble  man,"  said  Foldath  in  gloomy  wrath. 
"  Fly  to   the  gray  streams  of  thy  land,  son  of  the   little   soul  ! 

*'  *  Then  fly,'  said  Foldath,  fierce  with  gloomy  wrath, 
*  Thou  feeble  man,  son  of  the  little  soul ; 
Fly  to  thy  native  land,  where  eddying  moss 
The  streaming  waters  grey.'  " 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

Have  not  I  seen  that  Oscar  ?  I  beheld  the  chief  in  war.  He  is 
of  the  mighty  in  danger  ;  but  there  are  others  who  lift  the  spear. 
Erin  has  many  sons  as  brave,  king  of  Temora  of  Groves  !  Let 
Foldath  meet  him  in  the  strength  of  his  course,  and  stop  this 
mighty  stream.  "  My  spear  is  covered  with  the  blood  of  the 
valiant ;  my  shield  is  like  the  wall  of  Tura." 

*' Shall  Foldath  alone  meet  the  foe?"  replied  the  dark-brown 
Malthos.  "Are  they  not  numerous  on  our  coast,  like  the  waters 
of  many  streams?  Are  not  these  the  chiefs  who  vanquished 
Swaran,  when  the  sons  of  Erin  fled  ?  And  shall  Foldath  meet 
their  bravest  heroes?  Foldath  of  the  heart  of  pride  !  take  the 
strength  of  the  people  ;  and  let  Malthos  come.  My  sword  is  red 
with  slaughter,  but  who  has  heard  my  words  ?' ' 

"  Sons  of  green  Erin,"  said  Hidalla,  "let  not  Fingal  hear 
your  words.  The  foe  might  rejoice,  and  his  arm  be  strong  in 
the  land.  Ye  are  brave,  O  warriors,  and  like  the  storms  of  the 
desert ;  they  meet  the  rocks  without  fear,  and  overturn  the 
woods.  But  let  us  move  in  our  strength,  flow  as  a  gathered 
cloud.  Then  shall  the  mighty  tremble ;  the  spear  shall  fall 
from  the  hand  of  the  valiant.  We  see  the  cloud  of  death,  they 
will  say,  while  shadows  fly  over  their  face.  Fingal  will  mourn 
in  his  age,  and  see  his  flying  fame.  The  steps  of  his  chiefs  will 
cease  in  Morven  :   the  moss  of  years  shall  grow  in  Selma." 


364  LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  F. 

Cairbar  heard  their  words,  in  silence,  like  the  cloud  of  a 
shower:  it  stands  dark  on  Cromla,  till  the  lightning  bursts  its 
sides  :  the  valley  gleams  with  red  light ;  the  spirits  of  the  storm 
rejoice.  So  stood  the  silent  king  of  Temora ;  at  length  his 
words  are  heard. 

"Spread  the  feast  on  Moi-lena  :  let  my  hundred  bards  attend. 
Thou,  red-haired  011a,  take  the  harp  of  the  king.  Go  to  Oscar, 
chief  of  swords,  and  bid  him  to  our  feast,  Tc-day  we  feast  and 
hear  the  song  ;  to-morrow  break  the  spears.  Tell  him  that  I  have 
raised  the  tomb  of  Cathol ;  that  bards  have  sung  to  his  ghost. 
Tell  hira  that  Cairbar  has  heard  his  fame  at  the  stream  of  re- 
sounding Carun.  Cathmor  is  not  here,  Borbar-duthul's  gener- 
ous race.  He  is  not  here  with  his  thousands,  and  our  arms  are 
weak.  Cathmor  is  a  foe  to  strife  at  the  feast :  his  soul  is  bright 
as  that  sun.  But  Cairbar  shall  fight  with  Oscar,  chiefs  of  the 
woody  Temora  !  His  words  for  Cathol  were  many  ;  the  wrath 
of  Cairbar  burns.  He  shall  fall  on  Moi-lena  :  my  fame  shall  rise 
in  blood." 

Their  faces  brightened  round  with  joy.  They  spread  over 
Moi-lena.  The  feast  of  shells  is  prepared.  The  songs  of  bards 
arise.  We  heard  the  voice  of  joy  on  the  coast :  we  thought 
that  mighty  Cathmor  came.  Cathmor  the  friend  of  strangers  ! 
the  brother  of  red-haired  Cairbar.  Their  souls  were  not  the 
same.  The  light  of  heaven  was  in  the  bosom  of  Cathmor.  His 
towers  rose  on  the  banks  of  Atha  :  seven  paths  led  to  his  halls. 
Seven  chiefs  stood  on  the  paths,  and  called  the  stranger  to  the 
feast !  But  Cathmor  dwelt  in  the  wood  to  avoid  the  voice  of 
praise. 

011a  came  with  his  .songs.  Oscar  went  to  Cairbar's  feast. 
Three  hundred  warriors  strode  along  Moi-lena  of  the  streams. 
The  gray  dogs  bounded  on  the  heath,  their  howling  reached 
afar.  Fingal  saw  the  departing  hero  :  the  soul  of  the  king  was 
sad.  He  dreaded  Cairbar's  gloomy  thoughts,  amidst  the  feast 
of  shells.  My  son  raised  high  the  spear  of  Cormac  :  an  hundred 
bards  met  him  with  songs.  Cairbar  concealed  with  smiles  the 
death  that  was  dark  in  his  soul.  The  feast  is  spread,  the  shells 
resound  :  joy  brightens  the  face  of  the  host.  But  it  was  like  the 
parting  beam  of  the  sun,  when  he  is  to  hide  his  red  head  in  a 
storm. 


TBMORA,  365 

Cairbar  rose  in  his  arms  ;  darkness  gathered  on  his  brow. 
The  hundred  harps  ceased  at  once. 

'*  Girt  in  his  anns  rose  Cairbar  ;  on  his  brow- 
Thick  darkness  gathered,  and  at  once  were  mute 
The  hundred  harps." — Shackleton's  Ossian. 

The  clang^  of  shields  was  heard.  Far  distant  on  the  heath  Olla 
raised  his  song  of  woe.  My  son  knew  the  sign  of  death,  and 
rising  seized  his  spear.  ''Oscar!"  said  the  dark-red  Cairbar, 
**  I  behold  the  spear  of  Innisfail.  The  spear  of  Temora  glitters 
in  thy  hand,  son  of  woody  Morven  !  It  was  the  pride  of  an 
hundred  kings,  the  death  of  heroes  of  old.  Yield  it,  son  of 
Ossian,  yield  it  to  car-borne  Cairbar." 

**  Shall  I  yield,"  Oscar  replied,  "the  gift  of  Erin's  injured 
king :  the  gift  of  fair-haired  Cormac,  when  Oscar  scattered  his 
foes  !  I  came  to  Cormac' s  halls  of  joy,  when  Swaran  fled  from 
Fingal.  Gladness  rose  in  the  face  of  youth  :  he  gave  the  spear 
of  Temora.  Nor  did  he  give  it  to  the  feeble,  O  Cairbar,  neither 
to  the  weak  in  soul.  The  darkness  of  thy  face  is  no  storm  to 
me  ;  nor  are  thine  eyes  the  flames  of  death.  Do  I  fear  thy  clang- 
ing shield?  Tremble  I  at  Olla's  song?  No  :  Cairbar,  frighten 
the  feeble  ;  Oscar  is  a  rock. ' ' 

''And  wilt  thou  not  yield  the  spear?"  replied  the  rising  pride 
of  Cairbar.  "  Are  thy  words  so  mighty  because  Fingal  is  near? 
Fingal  with  aged  locks  from  Morven' s  hundred  groves  !  He  has 
fought  with  little  men.  But  he  must  vanish  before  Cairbar,  like 
a  thin  pillar  of  mist  before  the  winds  of  Atha." 

"  Were  he  who  fought  with  little  men  near  Atha's  darkening 
chief:  Atha's  darkening  chief  would  yield  green  Erin  his  rage. 
Speak  nor  of  the  mighty,  O  Cairbar  !  but  turn  thy  sword  on  me. 
Our  strength  is  equal :  but  Fingal  is  renowned  !  the  first  of  mortal 
mcr  !" 

Their  people  saw  the  darkening  chiefs.     Their  crowding  steps 

^  When  a  chief  was  determined  to  kill  a  person  already  in  his  power,  it  was 
usual  to  signify  that  his  death  was  intended  by  the  sound  of  a  shield  struck 
with  the  blunt  end  of  a  spear,  at  the  same  time  that  a  bard  at  a  distance  raised 
the  death-song.  A  ceremony  of  another  kind  was  long  used  in  Scotland  upon 
such  occasions.  Ever}'body  has  heard  that  a  bull's  head  was  served  up  to 
Lord  Douglas  in  the  castle  of  Edinburgh,  as  a  certain  signal  of  his  approach- 
ing death. 


366  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

are  heard  around.  Their  eyes  roll  in  fire.  A  thousand  swords 
are  half  unsheathed.  Red-haired  Olla  raised  the  song  of  battle  : 
the  trembling  joy  of  Oscar's  soul  arose  :  the  wonted  joy  of  his 
soul  when  Fingal's  horn  was  heard.  Dark  as  the  swelling  wave 
of  ocean  before  the  rising  winds,  when  it  bends  its  head  near  a 
coast,  came  on  the  host  of  Cairbar. 

Daughter  of  Toscar  !^  why  that  tear?  He  is  not  fallen  yet. 
Many  were  the  deaths  of  his  arm  before  my  hero  fell ! 
'  Behold  they  fall  before  my  son  like  the  groves  in  the  desert, 
when  an  angry  ghost  rushes  through  night,  and  takes  their  green 
heads  in  his  hand  !  Morlath  falls  :  Maronnan  dies  :  Conachar 
trembles  in  his  blood.  Cairbar  shrinks  before  Oscar's  sword, 
and  creeps  in  darkness  behind  his  stone.  He  lifted  the  spear  in 
secret,  and  pierced  my  Oscar's  side.  He  falls  forward  on  his 
shield  :  his  knees  sustain  the  chief.  But  still  his  spear  is  in  his 
hand.  See  gloomy  Cairbar  falls  !  The  steel  pierced  his  fore- 
head, and  divided  his  red  hair  behind.  He  lay,  like  a  shattered 
rock,  which  Cromla  shakes  from  its  shaggy  side.  But  never 
more  shall  Oscar  rise  !  he  leans  on  his  bossy  shield.  His  spear 
is  in  his  terrible  hand:  Erin's  sons  stood  distant  and  dark. 
Their  shouts  arose,  like  crowded  streams ;  Moi-lena  echoed 
wide.  Fingal  heard  the  sound,  and  took  his  father's  spear.  His 
steps  are  before  us  on  the  heath.     He  spoke  the  words  of  woe. 

' '  I  hear  the  noise  of  war.  Young  Oscar  is  alone.  Rise,  sons 
of  Morven  ;  join  the  hero's  sword." 

Ossian  rushed  along  the  heath.  Fillan  bounded  over  Moi- 
lena.  Fingal  strode  in  his  strength,  and  the  light  of  his  shield 
is  terrible.  The  sons  of  Erin  saw  it  far  distant ;  they  trembled 
in  their  souls.  They  knew  that  the  wrath  of  the  king  arose,  and 
they  foresaw  their  death.  We  first  arrived ;  we  fought ;  and 
Erin's  chiefs  withstood  our  rage.  But  when  the  king  came,  in 
the  sound  of  his  course,  what  heart  of  steel  could  stand  !  Erin 
fled  over  Moi-lena.  Death  pursued  their  flight.  We  saw  Oscar 
on  his  shield.  We  saw  his  blood  around.  Silence  darkened 
every  face.  Each  turned  his  back  and  wept.  The  king  strove 
to  hide  his  tears.  His  gray  beard  whistled  in  the  wind.  He 
bent  his  head  above  his  son.      His  words  were  mixed  with  sighs. 

^  Malvina,  the  daughter  of  Toscar,  to  whom  he  addresses  that  part  of  the 
poem  which  relates  to  the  death  of  Oscar  her  lover. 


TEMOBA,  367 

**  And  art  thou  fallen,  Oscar,  in  the  midst  of  thy  course?  the 
heart  of  the  aged  beats  over  thee  !  He  sees  thy  coming  wars. 
The  wars  which  ought  to  come  he  sees,  but  they  are  cut  off  from 
thy  fame.  When  shall  joy  dwell  at  Selma  ?  When  shall  grief 
depart  from  Morven  ?  My  sons  fall  by  degrees  :  Fingal  shall  be 
the  last  of  his  race.  The  fame  which  I  have  received  shall  pass 
away  :  my  age  will  be  without  friends.  I  shall  sit  a  gray  cloud 
in  my  hall :  nor  shall  I  hear  the  return  of  a  son,  in  the  midst  of 
his  sounding  arms.  Weep,  ye  heroes  of  Morven  !  never  more 
shall  Oscar  rise  ! ' ' 

And  they  did  weep,  O  Fingal ;  dear  was  the  hero  to  their 
souls.  He  went  out  to  battle,  and  the  foes  vanished ;  he  re- 
turned, in  peace,  amidst  their  joy.  No  father  mourned  his  son 
slain  in  youth  ;  no  brother  his  brother  of  love.  They  fell,  with- 
out tears,  for  the  chief  of  the  people  was  low  !  Bran^  is  howling 
at  his  feet :  gloomy  Luath  is  sad,  for  he  had  often  led  them  to 
the  chase  ;  to  the  bounding  roe  of  the  desert. 

**  The  very  dogs  bewail  his  death 
In  common  with  his  friends." 

— Old  Version. 

When  Oscar  saw  his  friends  around,  his  breast  arose  with 
sighs.  *' The  groans"  he  said,  '*  of  aged  chiefs  ;  the  howling 
of  my  dogs  ;  the  sudden  bursts  of  songs  of  grief,  have  melted 
Oscar's  soul.  My  soul,  that  never  melted  before;  it  was  like 
the  steel  of  my  sword.  Ossian,  carry  me  to  my  hills  !  Raise  the 
stones  of  my  renown.  Place  the  horn  of  the  deer  and  my 
sword  within  my  narrow  dwelling.  The  torrent  hereafter  may 
raise  the  earth  :  the  hunter  may  find  the  steel  and  say,  '  This 
has  been  Oscar's  sword.' 

"  And  fallest  thou,  son  of  my  fame  !  And  shall  I  never  see 
thee,  Oscar  !  When  others  hear  of  their  sons,  I  shall  not  hear 
of  thee.  The  moss  is  on  thy  four  gray  stones ;  the  mournful 
wind  is  there.  The  battle  shall  be  fought  without  him  :  he 
shall  not  pursue  the  dark-brown  hinds.  When  the  warrior  re- 
turns from  battles,  and  tells  of  other  lands,  '  I  have  seen  a  tomb, ' 
he  will  say,  '  by  the  roaring  stream,  the  dark  dwelling  of  a  chief 
He  fell  by  car -borne  Oscar,  the  first  of  mortal  men.'     I,  per- 

*  Bran  was  one  of  Fingal' s  dogs.     Bran  signifies  a  mountain-stream. 


368      LEO  END  A  R  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y, 

haps,  shall  hear  his  voice ;  and  a  beam  of  joy  will  rise  in  my 

soul." 

**  And  shall  I,  Oscar,  never  see  thee  more? 
"When  others  hear  in  raptures  of  their  sons, 
I  shall  not  hear  of  thee." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

The  night  would  have  descended  in  sorrow,  and  morning  re- 
turned in  the  shadow  of  grief :  our  chiefs  would  have  stood  like 
cold  dropping  rocks  on  Moi-lena,  and  have  forgot  the  war,  did 
not  the  king  disperse  his  grief,  and  raise  his  mighty  voice. 
The  chiefs,  as  new-awakened  from  dreams,  lift  up  their  heads 
around. 

"  How  long  on  Moi-lena  shall  we  weep  ;  or  pour  our  tears  in 
UUin  ?  The  mighty  will  not  return.  Oscar  shall  not  rise  in  his 
strength.  The  valiant  must  fall  one  day,  and  be  no  more 
known  on  his  hills.  Where  are  our  fathers,  O  warriors  !  the 
chiefs  of  the  times  of  old  ?  They  have  set  like  stars  that  have 
shone,  we  only  hear  the  sound  of  their  praise.  But  they  were 
renowned  in  their  day,  the  terror  of  other  times.  Thus  shall  we 
pass,  O  warriors,  in  the  day  of  our  fall.  Then  let  us  be  re- 
nowned when  we  may ;  and  leave  our  fame  behind  us,  like  the 
last  beams  of  the  sun,  when  he  hides  his  red  head  in  the  west. 
Ullin,  my  aged  bard  !  take  the  ship  of  the  king.  Carry  Oscar 
to  Selma  of  harps.  Let  the  daughters  of  Morven  weep.  We 
shall  fight  in  Erin  for  the  race  of  fallen  Cormac.  The  days  of 
my  years  begin  to  fail :  I  feel  the  weakness  of  my  arm.  My 
fathers  bend  from  their  clouds,  to  receive  their  gray-haired  son. 
But,  before  I  go  hence,  one  beam  of  fame  shall  rise :  so  shall 
my  days  end,  as  my  years  begun,  in  fame  :  my  life  shall  be  one 
stream  of  light  to  bards  of  other  times." 

Ullin  raised  his  white  sails  :  the  wind  of  the  south  came 
forth.  He  bounded  on  the  waves  towards  Selma.  I  remained 
in  my  grief,  but  ray  words  were  not  heard.  The  feast  is  spread 
on  Moi-lena:  an  hundred  heroes  reared  the  tomb  of  Cairbar : 
but  no  song  is  raised  over  the  chief,  for  his  soul  has  been  dark 
and  bloody.  The  bards  remembered  the  fall  of  Cormac  !  what 
could  they  say  in  Cairbar's  praise? 

The  night  came  rolling  down.  The  light  of  an  hundred  oaks 
arose.     Fingal  sat  beneath  a  tree.     Old  Althan  stood  in  the 


TEMOUA.  369 

midsr.  He  told  the  tale  of  fallen  Cormac.  Althan  the  son  of 
Conachar,  the  friend  of  car-borne  CuchuUin  :  he  dwelt  with 
Cormac  in  windy  Temora,  when  Semo's  son  fought  with  gener- 
ous Torlath.     The  tale  of  Althan  was  mournful,  and  the  tear  was 

in  his  eye. 

'•  The  night  came  rolling  down,  the  gleaming  light 
Rose  from  a  hundred  oaks — Beneath  a  tree 
Sat  Morven's  chief." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

"  The  setting  sun  was  yellow  on  Dora.  Gray  evening  began  to 
descend.  Temora' s  woods  shook  with  the  blast  of  the  uncon- 
stant  wind.  A  cloud,  at  length,  gathered  in  the  west,  and  a 
red  star  looked  from  behind  its  edge.  I  stood  in  the  wood 
alone,  and  saw  a  ghost  on  the  darkening  air.  His  stride  ex- 
tended from  hill  to  hill  :  his  shield  was  dim  on  his  side.  It  was 
the  son  of  Semo  :  I  knew  the  warrior's  face.  But  he  passed 
away  in  his  blast,  and  all  was  dark  around.  My  soul  was  sad. 
I  went  to  the  hall  of  shells.  A  thousand  lights  arose  :  the  hun- 
dred bards  had  strung  the  harp.  Cormac  stood  in  the  midst, 
like  the  morning  star,  when  it  rejoices  on  the  eastern  hill,  and 
its  young  beams  are  bathed  in  showers.  The  sword  of  Artho  was 
in  the  hand  of  the  king,  and  he  looked  with  joy  on  its  polished 
studs  :  thrice  he  strove  to  draw  it,  .and  thrice  he  failed  ;  his  yel- 
low locks  are  spread  on  his  shoulders  :  his  cheeks  of  youth  are 
red.  I  mourned  over  the  beam  of  youth,  for  he  was  soon  to 
set. 

**' Althan!'  he  said,  with  a  smile,  *hast  thou  beheld  my 
father  ?  Heavy  is  the  sword  of  the  king,  surely  his  arm  was 
strong.  O  that  I  were  like  him  in  battle,  when  the  rage  of  his 
wrath  arose  !  then  would  I  have  met,  like  CuchuUin,  the  car- 
borne  son  of  Cantela  !  But  years  may  come  on,  O  Althan  !  and 
my  arm  be  strong.  Hast  thou  heard  of  Semo's  son,  the  chief 
of  high  Temora  ?  He  might  have  returned  with  his  fame  ;  for 
he  promised  to  return  to-night.  My  bards  wait  him  with  songs; 
my  feast  is  spread  in  Temora. ' 

"I  heard  the  king  in  silence.  My  tears  began  to  flow.  I 
hid  them  with  my  aged  locks  ;  but  he  perceived  my  grief.  *  Son 
of  Conachar!'    he  said,    ^'is   the    king  of  Tura^    low?     Why 

1  CuchuUin  is  called  the  king  of  Tura,  from  a  castle  of  that  name  on  the 
coast  of  Ulster. 


3  70       LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

bursts  thy  sigh  in  secret  ?  And  why  descends  the  tear?  Comes 
the  car-borne  Torlath  ?  Or  the  sound  of  the  red-haired  Cairbar? 
They  come  !  for  I  behold  thy  grief.  Mossy  Tura's  king  is  low  ! 
Shall  I  not  rush  to  battle?  But  I  cannot  lift  the  spear  !  O  had 
mine  arm  the  strength  of  Cuchullin,  soon  would  Cairbar  fly ; 
the  fame  of  my  fathers  would  be  renewed ;  and  the  deeds  of 
other  times  !' 

'^  He  took  his  bow.  The  tears  flow  down,  from  both  his 
sparkling  eyes.  Grief  saddens  round  :  the  bards  bend  forward, 
from  their  hundred  harps.  The  lone  blast  touched  their  trem- 
bling strings.     The  sound^  is  sad  and  low. 

"  Their  trembling  strings  the  blast 
Lone  blowing  touched,  the  sound  is  sad  and  low." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

A  voice  is  heard  at  a  distance,  as  of  one  in  grief.  It  was  Carril 
of  other  times,  who  came  from  dark  Slimora.  He  told  of  the 
death  of  Cuchullin,  and  of  his  mighty  deeds.  The  people  were 
scattered  round  his  tomb  :  their  arms  lay  on  the  ground.  They 
had  forgot  the  war,  for  he,  their  fire,  was  seen  no  more. 

*''But  who,'  said  the  soft-voiced  Carril,  'come  like  the 
bounding  roes  ?  Their  stature  is  like  the  young  trees  of  the  plain, 
growing  in  a  shower  :  Soft  and  ruddy  are  their  cheeks ;  but 
fearless  souls  look  forth  from  their  eyes.  Who  but  the  sons  of 
Usnoth,  the  car-borne  chiefs  of  Etha.  The  people  rise  on  every 
side,  like  the  strength  of  an  half-extinguished  fire,  when  the 
winds  come,  sudden,  from  the  desert,  on  their  rustling  wings. 
The  sound  of  Caithbat's"  shield  was  heard.  The  heroes  saw 
Cuchullin  in  Nathos.  So  rolled  his  sparkling  eyes  :  his  steps 
were  such  on  the  heath.  Battles  are  fought  at  Lego  :  the 
sword  of  Nathos  prevails.  Soon  shalt  thou  behold  him  in  thy 
halls,  king  of  Temora  of  Groves.' 

*'  '  And  soon  may  I  behold  the  chief!'  replied  the  blue-eyed 
king.  '  But  my  soul  is  sad  for  Cuchullin  ;  his  voice  was  pleas- 
ant in  mine  ear.     Often  have  we  moved,  on  Dora,  to  the  chase 

^  The  prophetic  sound,  mentioned  in  other  poems,  which  the  harps  of  the 
bards  emitted  before  the  death  of  a  person  worthy  and  renowned.  It  is  here 
an  omen  of  the  death  of  Cormac,  which,  soon  after,  followed. 

^  Caithbat  was  grandfather  to  Cuchullin  ;  and  his  shield  was  made  use  of 
to  alarm  his  posterity  to  the  battles  of  the  family. 


TEMORA.  371 

of  the  dark-brown  hinds  :  his  bow  was  unerring  on  the  moun- 
tains. He  spoke  of  mighty  men.  He  told  of  the  deeds  of  my 
fathers  ;  and  I  felt  my  joy.  But  sit  thou  at  the  feast,  O  bard,  I 
have  often  heard  thy  voice.  Sing  in  the  praise  of  Cuchullin, 
and  of  that  mighty  stranger. ' 

"Day  rose  on  woody  Temora,  with  all  the  beams  of  the 
east.  Trathin  came  to  the  hall,  the  son  of  old  Gellama.  *  I 
behold,'  he  said,  ^a  dark  cloud  in  the  desert,  king  of  Innis- 
fail  !  a  cloud  it  seemed  at  first,  but  now  a  crowd  of  men.  One 
strides  before  them  in  his  strength ;  his  red  hair  flies  in  wind. 
His  shield  glitters  to  the  beam  of  the  east.  His  spear  is  in  his 
hand.' 

"  '  Call  him  to  the  feast  of  Temora,'  replied  the  king  of  Erin. 
*  My  hall  is  the  house  of  strangers,  son  of  the  generous  Gellama  ! 
Perhaps  it  is  the  chief  of  Etha,  coming  in  the  sound  of  his  re- 
nown. Hail,  mighty  stranger,  art  thou  of  the  friends  of  Cor- 
mac?  But  Carril,  he  is  dark,  and  unlovely;  and  he  draws  his 
sword.     Is  that  the  son  of  Usnoth,  bard  of  the  times  of  old  ?' 

"  '  It  is  not  the  son  of  Usnoth  !'  said  Carril,  '  but  the  chief 
of  Atha.  Why  comest  thou  in  thy  arms  to  Temora,  chief  of 
the  gloomy  brow  ?  Let  not  thy  sword  rise  against  Cormac  ! 
Whither  dost  thou  turn  thy  speed?'  He  passed  on  in  darkness, 
and  seized  the  hand  of  the  king.  Cormac  foresaw  his  death,  and 
the  rage  of  his  eyes  arose.  '  Retire,  thou  gloomy  chief  of  Atha  : 
Nathos  comes  with  battle.  Thou  art  bold  in  Cormac' s  hall,  for 
his  arm  is  weak. '  The  sword  entered  the  side  of  the  king  :  he 
fell  in  the  halls  of  his  fathers.  His  fair  hair  is  in  the  dust.  His 
blood  is  smoking  round. 

''  'And  art  thou  fallen  in  thy  halls,  O  son  of  noble  Artho? 
The  shield  of  Cuchullin  was  not  near.  Nor  the  spear  of  thy 
father.  Mournful  are  the  mountains  of  Erin,  for  the  chief  of  the 
people  is  low  !  Blest  be  thy  soul,  O  Cormac  !  thou  art  darkened 
in  thy  youth.' 

**  My  blessings  rest,  O  Cormac,  on  thy  soul, 
For  in  thy  youth  has  darkness  o'er  thee  past." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

**  His  words  came  to  the  ears  of  Cairbar,  and  he  closed  us  in 
the  midst  of  darkness.     He  feared  to  stretch  his  sword  to  the 


372  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

bards'  though  his  soul  was  dark.  Long  had  we  pined  alone  :  at 
length,  the  noble  Cathmor  came.  He  heard  our  voice  from  the 
cave ;  he  turned  the  eye  of  his  wrath  on  Cairbar. 

***  Chief  of  Atha!'  he  said,  'how  long  wilt  thou  pain  my 
soul  ?  Thy  heart  is  like  the  rock  of  the  desert,  and  thy 
thoughts  are  dark.  But  thou  art  the  brother  of  Cathmor,  and  he 
will  fight  thy  battles.  But  Cathmor's  soul  is  not  like  thine,  thou 
feeble  hand  of  war  !  The  light  of  my  bosom  is  stained  with  thy 
deeds  :  the  bards  will  not  sing  of  my  renown.  They  may  say, 
**  Cathmor  was  brave,  but  he  fought  for  gloomy  Cairbar."  They 
will  pass  over  my  tomb  in  silence  :  my  fame  shall  not  be  heard. 
Cairbar !  loose  the  bards  :  they  are  the  sons  of  other  times. 
Their  voice  shall  be  heard  in  other  years,  after  the  kings  of 
Temora  have  failed.  We  came  forth  at  the  words  of  the  chief. 
We  saw  him  in  his  strength.  He  was  like  thy  youth,  O  Fingal, 
when  thou  first  didst  lift  the  spear.  His  face  was  like  the  plain 
of  the  sun  when  it  is  bright :  no  darkness  travelled  over  his  brow. 
But  he  came  with  his  thousands  to  Ullin  ;  to  aid  the  red-haired 
Cairbar :  and  now  he  comes  to  revenge  his  death,  O  king  of 
woody  Morven. ' 

''And  let  him  come,"  replied  the  king;  "I  love  a  foe  like 
Cathmor.  His  soul  is  great ;  his  arm  is  strong,  his  battles  are 
full  of  fame.  But  the  little  soul  is  a  vapor  that  hovers  round  the 
marshy  lake :  it  never  rises  on  the  green  hill,  lest  the  winds 
should  meet  it  there  :  its  dwelling  is  in  the  cave,  it  sends  forth 
the  dart  of  death.  Our  young  heroes,  O  warriors,  are  like  the 
renown  of  our  fathers.  They  fight  in  youth  ;  they  fall :  their 
names  are  in  the  song.  Fingal  is  amidst  his  darkening  years. 
He  must  not  fall,  as  an  aged  oak,  across  a  secret  stream.  Near 
it  are  the  steps  of  the  hunter,  as  it  lies  beneath  the  wind.  How 
has  that  tree  fallen  ?     He,  whistling,  strides  along. 

"  Raise  the  song  of  joy,  ye  bards  of  Morven,  that  our  souls 
may  forget  the  past.  The  red  stars  look  on  us  from  the  clouds, 
and  silently  descend. 

*'  That  our  sad  souls  may  forget  the  past, 
Ye  bards  of  Morven  raise  the  song  of  joy, 
Down  from  the  clouds  on  us  red  look  the  stars." 
— Shackleton's  Ossian. 

*  The  persons  of  the  bards  were  so  sacred,  that  even  he,  who  had  just  mur- 
dered his  sovereign,  feared  to  kill  them. 


TEMORA,  373 

Soon  shall  the  gray  beam  of  the  morning  rise,  and  show  us  the 
foes  of  Cormac.  Fillan  !  take  the  spear  of  the  king ;  go  to 
Mora's  dark-brown  side.  Let  thine  eyes  travel  over  the  heath, 
like  flames  of  fire.  Observe  the  foes  of  Fingal,  and  the  course 
of  generous  Cathmor.  I  hear  a  distant  sound,  like  the  falling 
of  rocks  in  the  desert.  But  strike  thou  thy  shield,  at  times, 
that  they  may  not  come  through  night,  and  the  fame  of  Morven 
cease.  I  begin  to  be  alone,  my  son,  and  I  dread  the  fall  of 
my  renown." 

The  voice  of  the  bards  arose.  The  king  leaned  on  the  shield 
of  Trenmor.  Sleep  descended  on  his  eyes ;  his  future  battles 
rose  in  his  dreams.  The  host  are  sleeping  around.  Dark-haired 
Fillan  observed  the  foe.  His  steps  are  on  a  distant  hill :  \e 
hear,  at  times,  his  clanging  shield. 

*'  Whilst  on  a  lonely  distant  heath  he  treads, 
We  hear  at  times  the  clangor  of  his  shield." 

— Shackleton's  Ossian. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Lament  for  Malvina — Fingal's  Voyage  to  Lochlin — He 
Touches  at  Berrathon — Friendship  of   Larthmor 
— Uthal — Nina-thoma — Her  Imprisonment — 
Ossian  and  Toscar  Defeat  Uthal — Nina- 
thoma  Released — Her  Death — 
Ossian  Foretells  His 
Death. 

Ber-rath'on. 


Bend  thy  blue  course,  0  stream^  round  the  narrow  plain  of 
Lutha.^  Let  the  green  woods  hang  over  it  from  their  moun- 
tains :  and  the  sun  look  on  it  at  noon.  The  thistle  is  there  on 
its  rock,  and  shakes  its  beard  to  the  wind.  The  flower  hangs  its 
heavy  head,  waving,  at  times,  to  the  gale.  ' '  Why  dost  thou 
awake  me,  O  gale,"  it  seems  to  say ;  "  I  am  covered  with  the 
drops  of  heaven.  The  time  of  my  fading  is  near,  and  the  blast 
that  shall  scatter  my  leaves.  To-morrow  shall  the  traveller  come, 
he  that  saw  me  in  my  beauty  shall  come ;  his  eyes  will  search 
the  field,  but  they  will  not  find  me  !  So  shall  they  search  in 
vain  for  the  voice  of  Cona,  after  it  has  failed  in  the  field.  The 
hunter  shall  come  forth  in  the  morning,  and  the  voice  of  my 
harp  shall  not  be  heard.  ^'  Where  is  the  son  of  car-borne  Fin- 
gal?"     The  tear  will  be  on  his  cheek.     Then  come  thou,  O 


^  Lutha,  swift  stream. 


(374) 


BEBEATHON.  375 

Malvina,  with  all  thy  music,  come ;  lay  Ossian  in  the  plain  of 
Lutha :   let  his  tomb  rise  in  the  lovely  field. 

Malvina  !  where  art  thou  with  thy  songs  :  with  the  soft  sound 
of  thy  steps?  Son^  of  Alpin,  art  thou  near?  where  is  the 
daughter  of  Toscar?  '^  I  passed,  O  son  of  Fingal,  by  Tar- 
lutha's  mossy  walls.  The  smoke  of  the  hall  was  ceased : 
silence  was  among  the  trees  of  the  hill.  The  voice  of  the 
chase  was  over.  I  saw  the  daughters  of  the  bow.  I  asked 
about  Malvina,  but  they  answered  not.  They  turned  their  faces 
away :  thin  darkness  covered  their  beauty.  They  were  like 
stars^  on  a  rainy  hill,  by  night,  each  looking  faintly  through  her 
mist." 

Pleasant  be  thy  rest,  O  lovely  beam  !  soon  hast  thou  set  on  our 
hills  !  The  steps  of  thy  departure  were  stately,  like  the  moon 
on  the  blue,  trembling  wave.  But  thou  hast  left  us  in  darkness, 
first  of  the  maids  of  Lutha  !  We  sit,  at  the  rock,  and  there  is 
no  voice  ;  no  light  but  the  meteor  of  fire  !  Soon  hast  thou  set, 
Malvina,  daughter  of  generous  Toscar  !  But  thou  risest  like  the 
beam  of  the  east,  among  the  spirits  of  thy  friends,  where  they 
sit  in  their  stormy  halls,  the  chambers  of  the  thunder.  A 
cloud  hovers  over  Cona  :  its  blue  curling  sides  are  high.  The 
winds  are  beneath  it,  with  their  wings ;  within  it  is  the  dwelling 
of  Fingal.  There  the  hero  sits  in  darkness ;  his  airy  spear  is  in 
his  hand.  His  shield,  half  covered  with  clouds,  is  like  the  dark- 
ened moon  ;  when  one  half  still  remains  in  the  wave,  and  the 
other  looks  sickly  on  the  field. 

His  friends  sit  around  the  king,  on  mist,  and  hear  the  songs 
of  Ullin  :  he  strikes  the  half-viewless  harp,  and  raises  the  feeble 
voice. 

"  Seated  on  mist  his  friends  are  round  the  king, 
And  hear  the  aged  Ullin  of  the  song, 
The  soft,  half-viewless  harp,  he  gently  strikes, 
And  raises  the  weak  voice." 

— Davidson's  Ossian. 

The    lesser   heroes,   with    a   thousand    meteors,    light  the  airy 
hall.     Malvina  rises,  in  the  midst  :    a  blush  is  on  her  cheek. 

1  Tradition  has  not  handed  down  the  name  of  this  son  of  Alpin.  His 
father  was  one  of  Fingal' s  principal  bards,  and  he  appears  himself  to  have  had 
a  poetical  genius. 


376       LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

She  beholds  the  unknown  faces  of  her  fathers,  arfd  turns  aside 
her  humid  eyes.  ''Art  thou  come  so  soon,"  said  Fingal, 
"  daughter  of  generous  Toscar?  Sadness  dwells  in  the  halls  of 
Lutha.  My  aged  son  is  sad.  I  hear  the  breeze  of  Cona,  that 
was  wont  to  lift  thy  heavy  locks.  It  comes  to  the  hall,  but  thou 
art  not  there ;  its  voice  is  mournful  among  the  arms  of  thy 
fathers.  Go  with  thy  rustling  wing,  O  breeze  !  and  sigh  on 
''Malvina's  tomb.  It  rises  yonder  beneath  the  rock,  at  the  blue 
stream  of  Lutha.  The  maids^  are  departed  to  their  place,  and 
thou  alone^  O  breeze,  mourneth  there." 

But  who  comes  from  the  dusky  west,  supported  on  a  cloud  ? 
A  smile  is  on  his  gray,  watery  face  ;  his  locks  of  mist  fly  on  the 
wind  :  he  bends  forward  on  his  airy  spear  ;  it  is  thy  father,  Mal- 
vina  !  '*  Why  shinest  thou,  so  soon,  on  our  clouds,"  he  says, 
"O  lovely  light  of  Lutha?  But  thou  wert  sad,  my  daughter, 
for  thy  friends  were  passed  away.  The  sons  of  little  men  were 
in  the  hall,  and  none  remained  of  the  heroes,  but  Ossian,  king 
of  spears. ' ' 

And  dost  thou  remember  Ossian,  car -borne  Toscar,  son  of  Con- 
loch  ?  The  battles  of  our  youth  were  many  ;  our  swords  went 
together  to  the  field.  They  saw  us  coming  like  two  falling  rocks, 
and  the  sons  of  the  stranger  fled.  ''There  come  the  warriors 
of  Cona,"  they  said  ;  "  their  steps  are  in  the  paths  of  the  van- 
quished." Draw  near,  son  of  Alpin,  to  the  song  of  the  aged. 
The  actions  of  other  times  are  in  my  soul :  my  memory  beams 
on  the  days  that  are  past.  On  the  days  of  the  mighty  Toscar, 
when  our  path  was  in  the  deep.  Draw  near,  son  of  Alpin,  to  the 
last  sound  of  the  voice  of  Cona. 

The  king  of  Morven  commanded,  and  I  raised  my  sails  to  the 
wind.  Toscar,  chief  of  Lutha,  stood  at  my  side  as  I  rose  on  the 
dark -blue  wave.  Our  course  was  to  sea -surrounded  Berrathon, 
the  isle  of  many  storms.  There  dwelt,  with  his  locks  of  age,  the 
stately  strength  of  Larthmor.  Larthmor  who  spread  the  feast  of 
shells  to  Comhal's  mighty  son,  when  he  went  to  Starno's  halls, 
in  the  days  of  Agandecca.  But  when  the  chief  was  old,  the 
pride  of  his  son  arose,  the  pride  of  fair-haired  Uthal,  the  love  of 
a  thousand  maids.  He  bound  the  aged  Larthmor,  and  dwelt  in 
his  sounding  halls. 

^  That  is,  the  young  virg;ins  who  sung  the  funeral  elegy  over  her  tomb. 


BEURATHON.  377 

Long  pined  the  king  in  his  cave,  beside  his  rolling  sea. 

**  The  king  long  pined  in  his  lonely  cave 
Beside  the  rolling  of  the  troubled  sea. ' ' 

— Davidson's  Ossian. 

Morning  did  not  come  to  his  dwelling ;  nor  the  burning  oak  by 
night.  But  the  wind  of  ocean  was  there,  and  the  parting  beam 
of  the  moon.    The  red  star  looked  on  the  king,  when  it  trembled 


King  Larthmor  in  his  Cave. 


on  the  western  wave.  Snitho  came  to  Selma's  hall :  Snitho,  com- 
panion of  Larthmor' s  youth.  He  told  of  the  king  of  Berrathon  : 
the  wrath  of  Fingal  rose.  Thrice  he  assumed  the  spear,  resolved 
to  stretch  his  hand  to  Uthal.  But  the  memory  of  his  actions 
rose  before  the  king,  and  he  sent  his  son  and  Toscar.  Our  joy 
was  great  on  the  rolling  sea,  and  we  often  half  unsheathed  our 
swords.  For  never  before  had  we  fought  alone,  in  the  battles  of 
the  spear. 

Night  came  down  on  the  ocean ;   the  winds  departed  on  their 


3/8  LEGEND AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

wings.  Cold  and  pale  is  the  moon.  The  red  stars  lift  their 
heads.  Our  course  is  slow  along  the  coast  of  Berrathon  ;  the 
white  waves  tumble  on  the  rocks.  *'  What  voice  is  that,"  said 
Toscar,  *'  which  comes  between  the  sounds  of  the  waves  ?  It  is 
soft  but  mournful,  like  the  voice  of  departed  bards.  But  I 
behold  the  maid,^  she  sits  on  the  rock  alone.  Her  head  bends 
on  her  arm  of  snow  :  her  dark  hair  is  in  the  wind.  Hear, 
son  of  Fingal,  her  song,  it  is  smooth  as  the  gliding  waters 
of  Lavath. ' '  We  came  to  the  silent  bay,  and  heard  the  maid 
of  night. 

'*  How  long  will  ye  roll  around  me,  blue-tumbling  waters  of 
ocean  ?  My  dwelling  was  not  always  in  caves,  nor  beneath  the 
whistling  tree.  The  feast  was  spread  in  Torthoma's  hall ;  my 
father  delighted  in  my  voice.  The  youths  beheld  me  in  the 
steps  of  my  loveliness,  and  they  blessed  the  dark -haired  Nina- 
thoma.  It  was  then  thou  didst  come,  O  Uthal !  like  the  sun  of 
heaven.  The  souls  of  the  virgins  are  thine,  son  of  generous 
Larthmor  !  But  why  dost  thou  leave  me  alone  in  the  midst  of 
roaring  waters  ?  Was  my  soul  dark  with  thy  death  ?  Did  my 
white  hand  lift  the  sword  !  Why  then  hast  thou  left  me  alone, 
king  of  high  Finthormo?""* 

The  tear  started  from  my  eye  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  maid. 
I  stood  before  her  in  my  arms  and  spoke  the  words  of  peace. 
**  Lovely  dweller  of  the  cave,  what  sigh  is  in  that  breast  ?  Shall 
Ossian  lift  his  sword  in  thy  presence,  the  destruction  of  thy 
foes  ?  Daughter  of  Torthoma,  rise,  I  have  heard  the  words  of 
thy  grief.  The  race  of  Morven  are  around  thee,  who  never  in- 
jured the  weak.  Come  to  our  dark-bosomed  ship,  thou  brighter 
than  that  setting  moon.  Our  course  is  to  the  rocky  Berrathon, 
to  the  echoing  walls  of  Finthormo. ' '  She  came  in  her  beauty, 
she  came  with  all  her  lovely  steps.  Silent  joy  brightened  in  her 
face,  as  when  the  shadows  fly  from  the  field  of  spring  ;  the  blue 
stream  is  rolling  in  brightness,  and  the  green  bush  bends  over  its 
course. 

The  morning  rose  with  its  beams.  We  came  to  Rothma's 
bay.     A  boar  rushed  from  the  wood  ;  my  spear  pierced  his  side. 

*  Nina-thoma,  the  daughter  of  Torthdma,  who  had  been  confined  to  a  des- 
ert island  by  her  lover  Uthal. 

^  Finthormo,  the  palace  of  Uthal. 


BERRATHON.  379 

I  rejoiced  over  the  blood,'  and  foresaw  my  growing  fame.  But 
now  the  sound  of  Uthal's  train  came  from  the  high  Finthormo ; 
they  spread  over  the  heath  to  the  chase  of  the  boar.  Himself 
comes  slowly  on,  in  the  pride  of  his  strength.  He  lifts  two 
pointed  spears.  On  his  side  is  the  hero's  sword.  Three  youths 
carry  his  polished  bows  :  the  bounding  of  five  dogs  is  before 
him.  His  warriors  move  on,  at  a  distance,  admiring  the  steps 
of  the  king.  Stately  was  the  son  of  Larthmor  !  but  his  soul  was 
dark.  Dark  as  the  troubled  face  of  the  moon,  when  it  foretells 
the  storms. 

We  rose  on  the  heath  before  the  king  ;  he  stopped  in  the  midst 
of  his  course.  His  warriors  gathered  around,  and  a  gray-haired 
bard  advanced.  ' '  Whence  are  the  sons  of  the  strangers  ?' ' 
begun  the  bard.  ' '  The  children  of  the  unhappy  come  to  Ber- 
rathon  ;  to  the  sword  of  car-borne  Uthal.  He  spreads  no  feast 
in  his  hall :  the  blood  of  strangers  is  on  his  streams.  If  from 
Selma's  walls  ye  come,  from  the  mossy  walls  of  Fingal,  choose 
three  youths  to  go  to  your  king  to  tell  of  the  fall  of  his  people. 
Perhaps  the  hero  may  come  and  pour  his  blood  on  Uthal's 
sword  ;  so  shall  the  fame  of  Finthormo  arise,  like  the  growing 
tree  of  the  vale." 

''Never  will  it  rise,  O  bard,"  I  said  in  the  pride  of  my  wrath. 
*'  He  would  shrink  in  the  presence  of  Fingal,  whose  eyes  are  the 
flames  of  death.  The  son  of  Comhal  comes,  and  the  kings  van- 
ish in  his  presence  ;  they  are  rolled  together,  like  mist,  by  the 
breath  of  his  rage.  Shall  three  tell  to  Fingal  that  his  people 
fell  ?  Yes  !  they  may  tell  it,  bard,  but  his  people  shall  fall  with 
fame." 

I  stood  in  the  darkness  of  my  strength  :  Toscar  drew  his 
sword  at  my  side.  The  foe  came  on  like  a  stream  :  the  min- 
gled sound  of  death  arose.  Man  took  man,  shield  met  shield  ; 
steel  mixed  its  beams  with  steel.  Darts  hiss  through  air  ;  spears 
ring  on  mails  ;  and  swords  on  broken  bucklers  bound.  As  the 
noise  of  an  aged  grove  beneath  the  roaring  wind,  when  a  thou- 
sand ghosts  break  the  trees  by  night,  such  was  the  din  of  arms. 
But  Uthal  fell  beneath  my  sword,  and  the  sons  of  Berrathon 
fled.     It  was  then  I  saw  him  in  his  beauty,  and  the  tear  hung  in 

1  Ossian  thought  that  his  killing  the  boar,  on  his  first  landing  in  Berrathon, 
was  a  good  omen  of  his  future  success  in  that  island. 


380      LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

my  eye.  "Thou  art  fallen,'  young  tree,"  I  said,  "  with  all  thy 
beauty  round  thee.  Thou  art  fallen  on  thy  plains,  and  the  field 
is  bare.  The  winds  come  from  the  desert,  and  there  is  no  sound 
in  thy  leaves  !  Lovely  art  thou  in  death,  son  of  car -borne 
Larthmor. ' ' 

Nina-thoma  sat  on  the  shore,  and  heard  the  sound  of  battle. 

"  Nina-thoma  sat  on  the  rocky  shore 
And  heard  the  sound  of  battle  on  the  heath." 

— Davidson's  Ossian. 

She  turned  her  red  eyes  on  Lethmal  the  gray-haired  bard  of 
Selma,  for  he  had  remained  on  the  coast,  with  the  daughter  of 
Torthoma.  '*Son  of  the  times  of  old  !"  she  said,  ''  I  hear  the 
noise  of  death.  Thy  friends  have  met  with  Uthal.  and  the  chief 
is  low  !  O  that  I  had  remained  on  the  rock,  inclosed  with  the 
tumbling  waves  !  Then  would  my  soul  be  sad,  but  his  death 
would  not  reach  my  ear.  Art  thou  fallen  on  thy  heath,  O  son 
of  high  Finthormo?  thou  didst  leave  me  on  a  rock,  but  my  soul 
was  full  of  thee.  Son  of  high  Finthormo  !  art  thou  fallen  on 
thy  heath?" 

She  rose  pale  in  her  tears,  and  saw  the  bloody  shield  of  Uthal ; 
she  saw  it  in  Ossian' s  hand  ;  her  steps  were  distracted  on  the 
heath.  She  flew ;  she  found  him  ;  she  fell.  Her  soul  came 
forth  in  a  sigh.  Her  hair  is  spread  on  his  face.  My  bursting 
tears  descend.  A  tomb  arose  on  the  unhappy,  and  my  song 
was  heard.  "  Rest,  hapless  children  of  youth  !  at  the  noise  of 
that  mossy  stream.  The  virgins  will  see  your  tomb,  at  the  chase, 
and  turn  away  their  weeping  eyes.  Your  fame  will  be  in  the 
song  ;  the  voice  of  the  harp  will  be  heard  in  your  praise.  The 
daughters  of  Selma  shall  hear  it,  and  your  renown  shall  be  in 
other  lands.  Rest,  children  of  youth,  at  the  noise  of  the  mossy 
stream." 

Two  days  we  remained  on  the  coast.  The  heroes  of  Ber- 
rathon  convened.  We  brought  Larthmor  to  his  halls  ;  the  feast  of 
shells  was  spread.  The  joy  of  the  aged  was  great ;  he  looked  to 
the  arms  of  his  fathers ;  the  arms  which  he  left  in  his  hall,  when 
the  pride  of  Uthal  arose.     We  were  renowned  before  Larthmor, 

^  To  mourn  over  the  fall  of  their  enemies  was  a  practice  universal  among 
Ossian' s  heroes. 


BERRATHON.  381 

and  he  blessed  the  chiefs  of  Morven  ;  but  he  knew  not  that  his 
son  was  low,  the  stately  strength  of  Uthal.  They  had  told,  that 
he  had  retired  to  the  woods,  with  the  tears  of  grief ;  they  had 
told  it,  but  he  was  silent  in  the  tomb  of  Rothma's  heath. 

On  the  fourth  day  we  raised  our  sails  to  the  roar  of  the  north- 
ern wind.  Larthmor  came  to  the  coast,  and  his  bards  raised  the 
song.  The  joy  of  the  king  was  great;  he  looked  to  Rothma's 
gloomy  heath  ;  he  saw  the  tomb  of  his  son,  and  the  memory  of 
Uthal  rose.  "  Who  of  my  heroes,"  he  said,  ''  lies  there?  He 
seems  to  have  been  of  the  kings  of  spears  ?  Was  he  renowned  in 
my  halls,  before  the  pride  of  Uthal  rose?  Ye  are  silent,  sons  of 
Berrathon  !  is  the  king  of  heroes  low  ?    My  heart  melts  for  thee, 

0  Uthal !  though  thy  hand  was  against  thy  father  !  O  that  I 
had  remained  in  the  cave  !  that  my  son  had  dwelt  in  Finthormo  ! 

1  might  have  heard  the  tread  of  his  feet,  when  he  went  to  the 
chase  of  the  boar.  I  might  have  heard  his  voice  on  the  blast  of 
my  cave.  Then  would  my  soul  be  glad :  but  now  darkness 
dwells  in  my  halls. ' ' 

Such  were  my  deeds,  son  of  Alpin,  when  the  arm  of  my  youth 
was  strong  ;  such  were  the  actions  of  Toscar,  the  car-borne  son 
of  Conloch.  But  Toscar  is  on  his  flying  cloud,  and  I  am  alone 
at  Lutha  :  my  voice  is  like  the  last  sound  of  the  wind,  when  it 
forsakes  the  woods. 

"  But  I  am  alone,  and  Toscar  rides  upon 
The  clouds.  My  voice  is  like  the  echo 
Of  a  dying  storm." 

— Old  Version. 

But  Ossian  shall  not  be  long  alone ;  he  sees  the  mist  that  shall 
receive  his  ghost.  He  beholds  the  mist  that  shall  form  his  robe 
when  he  appears  on  his  hills.  The  sons  of  little  men  shall 
behold  me,  and  admire  the  stature  of  the  chiefs  of  old.  They 
shall  creep  to  their  caves,  and  look  to  the  sky  with  fear  ;  for 
my  steps  shall  be  in  the  clouds,  and  darkness  shall  roll  on  my  side. 
Lead,  son  of  Alpin,  lead  the  aged  to  his  woods.  The  winds 
begin  to  rise.  The  dark  wave  of  the  lake  resounds.  Bends  there 
not  a  tree  from  Mora  with  its  branches  bare  ?  It  bends,  son  of 
Alpin,  in  the  rustling  blast.  My  harp  hangs  on  a  blasted  branch. 
The  sound  of  its  strings  is  mournful.  Does  the  wind  touch  thee, 
O  harp,  or  is  it  some  passing  ghost  ?     It  is  the  hand  of  Malvina  ! 


382       LEGEND  A  R  Y  POE  TS  A  ND  POETR  Y. 

but  bring  me  the  harp,  son  of  Alpin  ;  another  song  shall  rise. 
My  soul  shall  depart  in  the  sound  ;  my  fathers  shall  hear  it  in 
their  airy  hall.  Their  dim  faces  shall  hang,  with  joy,  from  their 
clouds,  and  their  hands  receive  their  son.  The  aged  oak  bends 
over  the  stream.  It  sighs  with  all  its  moss.  The  withered  fern 
whistles  near,  and  mixes,  as  it  waves,  with  Ossian's  hair. 

Strike  the  harp  and  raise  the  song  :  be  near,  with  all  your 
wings,  ye  winds. 

**  Strke  the  well- tuned  harp 
And  raise  the  song ;  be  near  with  all  your  wings 
Ye  warring  tempest." 

— Davidson's  Ossian. 

Bear  the  mournful  sound  away  to  Fingal's  airy  hall.  Bear  it  to 
Fingal's  hall,  that  he  may  hear  the  voice  of  his  son ;  the  voice 
of  him  that  praised  the  mighty. 

The  blast  of  the  north  opens  thy  gates,  O  king,  and  I  behold 
thee  sitting  on  mist,  dimly  gleaming  in  all  thine  arms.  Thy 
form  now  is  not  the  terror  of  the  valiant,  but  like  a  watery  cloud 
when  we  see  the  stars  behind  it  with  their  weeping  eyes.  Thy 
shield  is  like  the  aged  moon :  thy  sword  a  vapor  half-kindled 
with  fire.  Dim  and  feeble  is  the  chief,  who  travelled  in  bright- 
ness before.  But  thy  steps  are  on  the  winds  of  the  desert,  and 
the  storm  darkens  in  thy  hand.  Thou  takest  the  sun  in  thy 
wrath,  and  hidest  him  in  thy  clouds.  The  sons  of  little  men  are 
afraid,  and  a  thousand  showers  descend.  But  when  thou  cometh 
forth  in  thy  mildness,  the  gale  of  the  morning  is  near  thy 
course.  The  sun  laughs  in  his  blue  fields,  and  the  gray  stream 
winds  in  its  valley.  The  bushes  shake  their  green  heads  in  the 
wind.     The  roes  bound  towards  the  desert. 

But  there  is  a  murmur  in  the  heath  !  the  stormy  winds  abate ! 
I  hear  the  voice  of  Fingal.  Long  has  it  been  absent  from  mine 
ear!  ''Come,  Ossian,  come  away,"  he  says  :  "Fingal  has  re- 
ceived his  fame.  We  passed  away  like  flames  that  had  shone  for 
a  season ;  our  departure  was  in  renown.  Though  the  plains  of 
our  battles  are  dark  and  silent,  our  fame  is  in  the  four  gray 
stones.  The  voice  of  Ossian  has  been  heard,  and  the  harp  was 
strung  in  Selma.  Come  Ossian,  come  away,"  he  says,  "and 
fly  with  thy  fathers  on  clouds. ' ' 

And  come  I  will,  thou  king  of  men  !    the  life  of  Ossian  fails. 


BEBRATHON.  383 

I  begin  to  vanish  on  Cona,  and  my  steps  are  not  seen  in  Selma. 
Beside  the  stone  of  Mora  I  shall  fall  asleep.  The  winds  whist- 
ling in  my  gray  hair  shall  not  waken  me.  Depart  on  thy  wings, 
O  wind  :  thou  canst  not  disturb  the  rest  of  the  bard.  The 
night  is  long,  but  his  eyes  are  heavy ;  depart,  thou  rustling 
blast. 

But  why  art  thou  sad,  son  of  Fingal  ?  Why  grows  the  cloud 
of  thy  soul  ?  The  chiefs  of  other  times  are  departed  ;  they  have 
gone  without  their  fame.  The  sons  of  future  years  shall  pass 
away,  and  another  race  arise.  The  people  are  like  the  waves 
of  ocean  ;  like  the  leaves  of  woody  Morven,  they  pass  away  in 
the  rustling  blast,  and  other  leaves  lift  their  green  heads.  Did 
thy  beauty  last,  O  Ryno?^  Stood  the  strength  of  car -borne 
Oscar?  Fingal  himself  passed  away,  and  the  halls  of  his  fathers 
forgot  his  steps.  And  shalt  thou  remain,  aged  bard  !  when  the 
mighty  have  failed?  But  my  fame  shall  remain,  and  grow  like 
the  oak  of  Morven,  which  lifts  its  broad  head  to  the  storm  and 
rejoices  in  the  course  of  the  wind. 

"  Like  the  tall  oak  is  Morven' s  woody  plain 
Which  its  broad  head  lifts  to  the  warring  winds 
And  boldly  meets  the  course  of  the  storm." 

—Davidson's  Ossian. 

1  Ryno,  the  son  of  Fingal,  who  was  killed  in  Ireland  in  the  war  against 
Swaran,  was  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  his  person,  his  swiftness  and  great 
exploits.  Minvane,  the  daughter  of  Morni,  and  sister  to  Gaul,  was  in  love 
with  Ryno. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Aideen's  Grave— The  Celts. 

According  to  one  of  the  many  traditions,  Oscar,  the  grandson 
of  Fingal,  was  slain  in  battle  near  Tura,  in  Ulster.  He  was 
buried  on  the  field,  a  place  now  designated  as  the  Hill  of  Howth. 
Aideen,  his  wife,  died  from  grief  and  was  buried  by  his  side 
amid  great  demonstrations  of  grief.  A  modern  poet  has  per- 
petuated the  legend  in  the  following  elegy  on 

AIDEEN'S  GRAVE. 

They  heaved  the  stones  ;  they  heaped  the  cairn. 

Said  Ossian,  '•  In  a  queenly  grave 
We  leave  her,  'mong  her  fields  of  fern 

Between  the  cliff  and  wave." 

The  cliff  behind  stands  clear  and  bare, 

And  bare,  above,  the  heathery  steep 
Scales  the  clear  heaven's  expanse,  to  where 

The  Danaan  Druids  sleep. 

And  all  the  sands  that,  left  and  right, 

The  grassy  isthmus-ridge  confine, 
In  yellow  bars  lie  bare  and  bright 

Among  the  sparkling  brine. 

A  clear  pure  air  pervades  the  scene, 

In  loneliness  and  awe  secure. 
Meet  spot  to  sepulchre  a  Queen, 
Who  in  her  life  was  pure. 
(  384  ) 


A  WEEN' S  QUA  VE.  385 

Here  far  from  camp  and  chase  removed. 

Apart  in  Nature's  quiet  room, 
The  music  that  alive  she  loved 

Shall  cheer  her  in  the  tomb. 

The  humming  of  the  noontide  bees, 

The  lark's  loud  carol  all  day  long. 
And,  borne  on  evening's  salted  breeze, 

The  clanking  sea-birds'  song. 

But  when  the  wintry  frosts  begin, 

And  in  their  long-drawn,  lofty  flight 
The  wild  geese  with  their  airy  din 

Distend  the  ear  of  night ; 

And  when  the  fierce  De  Danaan  ghosts. 

At  midnight  when  their  peaks  come  down, 
When  all  around  the  enchanted  coasts 
Despairing  strangers  drown  ; 

When  mingling  with  the  wreckful  wail 

From  low  Clontarf's  wave-trampled  floor, 
Comes  booming  up  the  burthened  gale      n 

The  angry  Sand  Bull's  roar  ; 

Or  angrier  than  the  sea,  the  shout 

Of  Erin's  hosts  in  wrath  combined 
When  Terror  heads  Oppression's  rout 

And  Freedom  cheers  behind  : — 

Then  o'er  our  lady's  placid  dream. 

When  safe  from  storms  she  sleeps,  may  steal 
Such  joy  as  may  not  misbeseem 

A  queen  of  men  to  feel. 

Such  thrill  of  free,  defiant  pride. 

As  rapt  her  in  her  battle  car 
At  Gavra,  when  by  Oscar' s  side 

She  rode  the  ridge  of  war. 

Exulting,  down  the  shouting  troops, 

And  through  the  thick  confronting  kings. 
With  hands  on  all  their  javelin  loops 

And  shafts  on  all  their  strings  ; 

E'er  closed  the  inseparable  crowds 

No  more  to  part  for  me,  and  show. 
As  bursts  the  sun  through  scattering  clouds 

My  Oscar  issuing  so. 


386      LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY, 

No  more,  dispelling  battle's  gloom, 
Shall  son  to  me  from  fight  return  ; 

The  great  green  rath's  ten-acred  tomb 
Lies  heavy  on  his  urn. 

A  cup  of  bodkin-pencilled  clay 

Holds  Oscar  ;  mighty  heart  and  limb 

One  handful  now  of  ashes  grey  : 
And  she  has  died  for  him. 

And  here,  hard  by  her  natal  bower 
On  lone  Ben-Edar's  side  we  strive 

With  lifted  rock  and  sign  of  power 
To  keep  her  name  alive. 

That,  while  from  circling  year  to  year, 
Her  Ogham-lettered  stone  is  seen, 

The  Gael  shall  say,  '  *  Our  Fenians  here 
Entombed  their  loved  Aideen. 

The  Ogham  from  her  pillar  stone 
In  tract  of  time  will  wear  away  ; 

Her  name  at  last  be  only  known 
In  Ossian's  echoed  lay. 

The  long-forgotten  lay  I  sing 

May  only  ages  hence  revive, 
(As  eagle  with  a  wounded  wing 

To  soar  again  might  strive.) 

Imperfect,  in  an  alien  speech, 

When,  wandering  here,  some  child  of  chance 
Through  pangs  of  keen  delight  shall  reach 

The  gift  of  utterance, — 

To  speak  the  air,  the  sky  to  speak. 
The  freshness  of  the  hill  to  tell. 

When,  roaming  bare  Ben-Edar's  peak 
And  Aideen' s  briary  dell, 

And  gazing  on  the  Cromlech  vast. 
And  on  the  mountain  and  the  sea, 

Shall  catch  communion  with  the  past 
And  mix  himself  with  me. 

Child  of  the  Future's  doubtful  night, 

Whate'er  your  speech,  whoe'er  your  sires, 

Sing  while  you  may  with  frank  delight 
The  song  your  hour  inspires. 


A  WEEK'S  GRA  VE.  387 

Sing  while  you  may,  nor  grieve  to  know 

The  song  you  sing  shall  also  die  ; 
Atharna's  lay  has  perished  so, 

Though  once  it  thrilled  the  sky. 

Above  us,  from  his  rocky  chair 

There,  where  Ben-Edar's  landward  crest 
O'er  eastern  Bregia  bends,  to  where 

Dun-Almon  crowns  the  west. 

What  change  shall  o'er  the  scene  have  cross'd 

WTiat  conquering  lords  anew  have  come  ; 
What  lore-armed,  mightier  Druid  host 

From  Gaul  or  distant  Rome  ! 

What  arts  of  death,  what  ways  of  life, 

What  creeds  unknown  to  bard  or  seer, 
Shall  round  your  careless  steps  be  rife, 

Who  pause  and  ponder  here  : 

And,  haply,  where  yon  curlew  calls 

Athwart  the  marsh,  'mid  groves  and  bowers, 
See  rise  some  mighty  chieftain's  halls 

With  unimagined  towers  : 

And  baying  hounds  and  coursers  bright, 

And  burnish' t  cars  of  dazzling  sheen, 
With  courtly  train  of  dame  and  knight, 

Where  now  the  fern  is  green. 

Or  by  yon  prostrate  altar  stone 

May  kneel,  perchance,  and  free  from  blame, 
Hear  holy  men  with  rites  unknown 

New  names  of  God  proclaim. 

Let  change  as  may  the  name  of  Awe, 

Let  right  surcease  and  altar  fall. 
The  same  one  God  remains,  a  law 

Forever  and  for  all. 

Let  change  as  may  the  face  of  earth, 

Let  alter  all  the  social  frame. 
For  mortal  men  the  ways  of  birth 

And  death  are  still  the  same. 

And  still,  as  life  and  time  wear  on. 

The  children  of  the  waning  days 
(Though  strength  be  from  their  shoulders  gone 

To  lift  the  loads  we  raise) 


388  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

Shall  weep  to  do  the  burial  rites 

Of  lost  one's  loved  ;  and  fondly  found 
In  shadow  of  the  gathering  nights 

The  monumental  mound. 

Farewell,  the  strength  of  man  is  worn  ; 

The  night  approaches  dark  and  chill ; 
Sleep  till,  perchance,  an  endless  morn 

Descends  the  glittering  hill  " — 

Of  Oscar  and  Aideen  bereft 

So  Ossian  sang.     The  Fenians  sped 
Three  mighty  shouts  to  heaven  ;  and  left 

Ben-Edar  to  the  dead. 

Sir  Samuel  Ferguson. 

The  Celtic  influence,  as  such,  has  long  since  been  absorbed 
into  the  general  name  of  Anglo-Saxon  ;  still  the  fountain  of  Celtic 
literature  has  by  no  means  run  dry.  A  current  deep  and  strong 
continues  to  hold  its  own  independent  way  across  the  earth.  The 
following  poem  illustrates  the  pride  with  which  the  descendants 
of  ancient  Britain  recall  the  achievements  of  a  former  age  and 
people.  It  is  an  echo  of  those  far-off  times,  when  a  sturdy  race 
fought  and  ruled  in  their  own  rough  and  sturdy  world. 

THE  CELTS. 

Long,  long  ago,  beyond  the  misty  space 

Of  twice  a  thousand  years, 
In  Erin  old  there  dwelt  a  mighty  race 

Taller  than  Roman  spears  ; 
Like  oaks  and  towers,  they  had  a  giant  grace. 

Were  fleet  as  dears  : 
With  winds  and  waves  they  made  their  biding-place, 

The  Western  shepherd  seers. 

Their  ocean-god  was  Mananan  Mac  Lir^ 

Whose  angry  lips 
In  their  white  foam  full  often  would  inter 

Whole  fleets  of  ships  : 
Crom  was  their  day-god,  and  their  thunderer 

Made  morning  and  eclipse  : 
Bride  was  their  queen  of  song,  and  unto  her 

They  pray'd  with  fire-touch' d  lips. 


THE  CELTS.  389 

Great  were  their  acts,  their  passions  and  their  sports  ; 

With  clay  and  stone 
They  piled  on  strath  and  shore  those  mystic  forts, 

Not  yet  undone  ; 
On  cairn-crown' d  hills  they  held  their  council  courts  ; 

While  youths — alone — 
With  giant-dogs,  explored  the  elks'  resorts. 

And  brought  them  down. 

Of  these  was  Finn,  the  father  of  the  bard 

Whose  ancient  song 
Over  the  clamor  of  all  change  is  heard, 

Sweet-voiced  and  strong. 
Finn  once  o'ertook  Granu,  the  golden  hair' d. 

The  fleet  and  young  : 
From  her,  the  lovely,  and  from  him,  the  feared. 

The  primal  poet  sprung — 

Ossian  ! — two  thousand  years  of  mist  and  change 

Surround  thy  name  ; 
Thy  Finnian  heroes  now  no  longer  range 

The  hills  of  Fame. 
The  very  names  of  Finn  and  Gael  sound  strange  ; 

Yet  thine  the  same 
By  miscall' d  lake  and  desecrated  grange 

Remains,  and  shall  remain  ! 

The  Druid's  altar  and  the  Druid's  creed 

We  scarce  can  trace  ; 
There  is  not  left  an  undisputed  deed 

Of  all  your  race — 
Save  your  majestic  Song,  which  hath  their  speed, 

And  strength  and  grace  : 
In  that  sole  song  they  live,  and  love,  and  bleed — 

It  bears  them  on  through  space. 

InspirM  giant,  shall  we  e'er  behold. 

In  our  own  time. 
One  fit  to  speak  your  spirit  on  the  wold. 

Or  seize  your  rhyme  ? 
One  pupil  of  the  past,  as  mighty-soul' d 

As  in  the  prime 
Were  the  fond,  fair,  and  beautiful,  and  bold — 

They  of  your  song  sublime  ? 

Thomas  D'  Arcy  McGee. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Tal-ies'in  (Tal-yes'-in). 

GwYDDNO  Garanhir  was  sovereign  of  Gwaelod,  a  territory 
bordering  on  the  sea.  And  he  possessed  a  weir  upon  the  strand 
between  Dyvi  and  Aberystwyth,  near  to  his  own  castle,  and  the 
value  of  an  hundred  pounds  was  taken  in  that  weir  every  May 
eve.  And  Gwyddno  had  an  only  son  named  Elphin,  the  most 
hapless  of  youths,  and  the  most  needy.  And  it  grieved  his 
father  sore,  for  he  thought  that  he  was  born  in  an  evil  hour.'  By 
the  advice  of  his  council,  his  father  had  granted  him  the  draw- 
ing of  the  weir  that  year,  to  see  if  good  luck  would  ever  befall 
him,  and  to  give  him  something  wherewith  to  begin  the  world. 
And  this  was  on  the  twenty -ninth  of  April. 

The  next  day,  when  Elphin  went  to  look,  there  was  nothing 
in  the  weir  but  a  leathern  bag  upon  a  pole  of  the  weir.  Then 
said  the  weir-ward  unto  Elphin,  **  All  thy  ill-luck  aforetime  was 
nothing  to  this ;  and  now  thou  hast  destroyed  the  virtues  of  the 
weir,  which  always  yielded  the  value  of  an  hundred  pounds  every 
May  eve ;  and  to-night  there  is  nothing  but  this  leathern  skin 
within  it."  "  How  now,"  said  Elphin,  "  there  may  be  therein 
the  value  of  a  hundred  pounds. ' '  Well !  they  took  up  the 
leathern  bag,  and  he  who  opened  it  saw  the  forehead  of  an  infant, 
the  fairest  that  ever  was  seen  ;  and  he  said,  **  Behold  a  radiant 
brow!"  (in  the  Welsh  language,  taliesin).  ''Taliesin  be  he 
called,"  said  Elphin.  And  he  lifted  the  bag  in  his  arms,  and, 
lamenting  his  bad  luck,  placed  the  boy  sorrowfully  behind  him. 
(  390  ) 


TALIESIN. 


391 


And  he  made  his  horse  amble  gently,  that  before  had  been  trot- 
ting, and  he  carried  him  as  softly  as  if  he  had  been  sitting  in  the 
easiest  chair  in  the  world.  And  presently  the  boy  made  a  Con- 
solation, and  praise  to  Elphin  ;  and  the  Consolation  was  as  you 
may  here  see. 

"  Fair  Elphin,  cease  to  lament ! 
Never  in  Gwyddno's  weir  ' 

Was  there  such  good  luck  as  this  night. 
Being  sad  will  not  avail  ; 
Better  to  trust  in  God  than  to  forebode  ill ; 
Weak  and  small  as  I  am, 
On  the  foaming  beach  of  the  ocean, 
In  the  day  of  trouble  I  shall  be 
Of  more  service  to  thee  than  three  hundred  salmon." 

This  was  the  first  poem  that  Taliesin  ever  sung,  being  to  con- 
sole Elphin  in  his  grief  for  that  the  produce  of  the  weir  was  lost, 
and  what  was  worse,  that  all  the  world  would  consider  that  it 
was  through  his  fault  and  ill-luck.  Then  Elphin  asked  him  what 
he  was,  whether  man  or  spirit.     And  he  sung  thus  : 

*♦  I  have  been  formed  a  comely  person  ; 
Although  I  am  but  little,  I  am  highly  gifted  ; 
Into  a  dark  leathern  bag  I  was  thrown, 
And  on  a  boundless  sea  I  was  sent  adrift. 
From  seas  and  from  mountains 
God  brings  wealth  to  the  fortunate  man." 

Then  came  Elphin  to  the  house  of  Gwyddno,  his  father,  and 
Taliesin  with  him.  Gwyddno  asked  him  if  he  had  had  a  good 
haul  at  the  weir,  and  he  told  him  that  he  had  got  that  which 
was  better  than  fish.  '*  What  was  that?"  said  Gwyddno,  *'A 
bard,"  said  Elpin.  Then  said  Gwyddno,  ''Alas  !  what  will  he 
profit  thee  ?"  And  Taliesin  himself  replied  and  said,  "■  He  will 
profit  him  more  than  the  weir  ever  profited  thee."  Asked 
Gwyddno,  ''  Art  thou  able  to  speak,  and  thou  so  little?"  And 
Taliesin  answered  him,  ''I  am  better  able  to  speak  than  thou  to 
question  me."  "Let  me  hear  what  thou  canst  say,"  quoth 
Gwyddno.     Then  Taliesin  sang  : 

'*  Three  times  have  I  been  born,  I  know  by  meditation  ; 
All  the  sciences  of  the  world  are  collected  in  my  breast. 
For  I  know  what  has  been,  and  what  hereafter  will  occur." 


392  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

Elphin  gave  his  haul  to  his  wife,  and  she  nursed  him  tenderly 
and  lovingly.  Thenceforward  Elphin  increased  in  riches  more 
and  more,  day  after  day,  and  in  love  and  favor  with  the  king ; 
and  there  abode  Taliesin  until  he  was  thirteen  years  old,  when 
Elphin,  son  of  Gwyddno,  went  by  a  Christmas  invitation  to  his 
uncle,  Maelgan  Gwynedd,  who  held  open  court  at  Christmas- 
tide  in  the  castle  of  Dyganwy,  for  all  the  number  of  his  lords  of 
both  degrees,  both  spiritual  and  temporal,  with  a  vast  and 
thronged  host  of  knights  and  squires.  And  one  arose  and  said, 
*'  Is  there  in  the  whole  world  a  king  so  great  as  Maelgan,  or  one 
on  whom  Heaven  has  bestowed  so  many  gifts  as  upon  him  ; — 
form,  and  beauty,  and  meekness,  and  strength,  besides  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul?"  And  together  with  these  they  said  that 
Heaven  had  given  one  gift  that  exceeded  all  the  others,  which 
was  the  beauty,  and  grace,  and  wisdom,  and  modesty  of  his 
queen,  whose  virtues  surpassed  those  of  all  the  ladies  and  noble 
maidens  throughout  the  whole  kingdom.  And  with  this  they  put 
questions  one  to  another.  Who  had  braver  men?  Who  had 
fairer  or  swifter  horses  or  greyhounds  ?  Who  had  more  skilful 
or  wiser  bards  than  Maelgan  ? 

When  they  had  all  made  an  end  of  their  praising  the  king  and 
his  gifts,  it  befell  that  Elphin  spoke  in  this  wise :  '*  Of  a  truth, 
none  but  a  king  may  vie  with  a  king  ;  but  were  he  not  a  king,  I 
would  say  that  my  wife  was  as  virtuous  as  any  lady  in  the  king- 
dom, and  also  that  I  have  a  bard  who  is  more  skilful  than  all  the 
king's  bards."  In  a  short  space  some  of  his  fellows  told  the 
king  all  the  boastings  of  Elphin  ;  and  the  king  ordered  him  to 
be  thrown  into  a  strong  prison,  until  he  might  show  the  truth 
as  to  the  virtues  of  his  wife,  and  the  wisdom  of  his  bard. 

Now  when  Elphin  had  been  put  in  a  tower  of  ihe  castle,  with 
a  thick  chain  about  his  feet  (it  is  said  that  it  was  a  silver  chain, 
because  he  was  of  royal  blood),  the  king,  as  the  story  relates, 
sent  his  son  Rhun  to  inquire  into  the  demeanor  of  Elphin's  wife. 
Now  Rhun  was  the  most  graceless  man  in  the  world,  and  there 
was  neither  wife  nor  maiden  with  whom  he  held  converse,  but 
was  evil  spoken  of.  While  Rhun  went  in  haste  towards  Elphin's 
dwelling,  being  fully  minded  to  bring  disgrace  upon  his  wife, 
Taliesin  told  his  mistress  how  that  the  king  had  placed  his  master 
in  durance  in  prison,  and  how  that  Rhun  was  coming  in  haste 


TALIESIN. 


393 


to  strive  to  bring  disgrace  upon  her.  Wherefore  he  caused  his 
mistress  to  array  one  of  the  maids  of  her  kitchen  in  her  apparel ; 
which  the  noble  lady  gladly  did,  and  she  loaded  her  hands  with 
the  best  rings  that  she  and  her  husband  possessed. 

In  this  guise  Taliesin  caused  his  mistress  to  put  the  maiden  to 
sit  at  the  board  in  her  room  at  supper ;  and  he  made  her  to  seem 
as  her  mistress,  and  the  mistress  to  seem  as  the  maid.  And 
when  they  were  in  due  time  seated  at  their  supper,  in  the  manner 
that  has  been  said,  Rhun  suddenly  arrived  at  Elphin's  dwelling, 
and  was  received  with  joy,  for  the  servants  knew  him  ;  and  they 
brought  him  to  the  room  of  their  mistress,  in  the  semblance  of 
whom  the  maid  rose  up  from  supper  and  welcomed  him  gladly. 
And  afterwards  she  sat  down  to  supper  again,  and  Rhun  with 
her.  Then  Rhun  began  jesting  with  the  maid,  who  still  kept 
the  semblance  of  her  mistress.  And  verily  this  story  shows  that 
the  maiden  became  so  intoxicated  that  she  fell  asleep  ;  and  the 
story  relates  that  it  was  a  powder  that  Rhun  put  into  the  drink 
that  made  her  sleep  so  soundly  that  she  never  felt  it  when  he  cut 
off  from  her  hand  her  little  finger,  whereon  was  the  signet  ring 
of  Elphin,  which  he  had  sent  to  his  wife  as  a  token  a  short  time 
before.  And  Rhun  returned  to  the  king  with  the  finger  and  the 
ring  as  a  proof,  to  show  that  he  had  cut  it  off  from  her  hand 
without  her  awaking  from  her  sleep  of  intemperance. 

**  I,  Taliesin,  chief  of  bards, 
With  a  sapient  Druid's  words, 
Will  set  kind  Elphin  free."— Triad. 

The  king  rejoiced  greatly  at  these  tidings,  and  he  sent  for  his 
councillors,  to  whom  he  told  the  whole  story  from  the  beginning. 
And  he  caused  Elphin  to  be  brought  out  of  prison,  and  he 
chided  him  because  of  his  boast.  And  he  spake  on  this  wise  : 
''Elphin,  be  it  known  to  thee  beyond  a  doubt,  that  it  is  but 
folly  for  a  man  to  trust  in  the  virtues  of  his  wife  further  than  he 
can  see  her  ;  and  that  thou  mayst  be  certain  of  thy  wife's  vileness, 
behold  her  finger,  with  thy  signet  ring  upon  it,  which  was  cut 
from  her  hand  last  night,  while  she  slept  the  sleep  of  intoxica- 
tion." Then  thus  spake  Elphin:  "With  thy  leave,  mighty 
king,  I  cannot  deny  my  ring,  for  it  is  known  of  many  ;  but 
verily  I  assert  that  the  finger  around  which  it  is  was  never 


394      LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

attached  to  the  hand  of  my  wife  ;  for  in  truth  and  certainty  there 
are  three  notable  things  pertaining  to  it,  none  of  which  ever 
belonged  to  any  of  my  wife's  fingers.  The  first  of  the  three  is, 
that  it  is  certainly  known  to  me  that  this  ring  would  never  remain 
upon  her  thumb,  whereas  you  can  plainly  see -that  it  is  hard  to 
draw  it  over  the  joint  of  the  little  finger  of  the  hand  whence 
this  was  cut.  The  second  thing  is,  that  my  wife  has  never  let 
pass  one  Saturday  since  I  have  known  her  without  paring  her 
nails  before  going  to  bed,  and  you  can  see  fully  that  the  nail  of 
this  little  finger  has  not  been  pared  for  a  month.  The  third  is, 
truly,  that  the  hand  whence  this  finger  came  was  kneading  rye 
dough  within  three  days  before  the  finger  was  cut  therefrom,  and 
I  can  assure  your  highness  that  my  wife  has  never  kneaded  rye 
dough  since  my  wife  she  has  been." 

The  king  was  mightily  wroth  with  Elphin  for  so  stoutly  with- 
standing him,  respecting  the  goodness  of  his  wife  ;  wherefore  he 
ordered  him  to  his  prison  a  second  time,  saying  that  he  should 
not  be  loosed  thence  until  he  had  proved  the  truth  of  his  boast, 
as  well  concerning  the  wisdom  of  his  bard  as  the  virtues  of  his 
wife. 

In  the  mean  time  his  wife  and  Taliesin  remained  joyful  at 
Elphin's  dwelling.  And  Taliesin  showed  his  mistress  how  that 
Elphin  was  in  prison  because  of  them  ;  but  he  bade  her  be  glad, 
for  that  he  would  go  to  Maelgan's  court  to  free  his  master.  So 
he  took  leave  of  his  mistress,  and  came  to  the  court  of  Maelgan, 
who  was  going  to  sit  in  his  hall,  and  dine  in  his  royal  state,  as 
it  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for  kings  and  princes  to  do  at 
every  chief  feast.  As  soon  as  Taliesin  entered  the  hall,  he 
placed  himself  in  a  quiet  corner,  near  the  place  where  the  bards 
and  the  minstrels  were  wont  to  come,  in  doing  their  service  and 
duty  to  the  king,  as  is  the  custom  at  the  high  festivals,  when  the 
bounty  is  proclaimed.  So,  when  the  bards  and  the  heralds  came 
to  cry  largess,  and  to  proclaim  the  power  of  the  king,  and  his 
strength,  at  the  moment  when  they  passed  by  the  corner  wherein 
he  was  crouching,  Taliesin  pouted  out  his  lips  after  them,  and 
played  **Blerwm,  blerwm  !"  with  his  finger  upon  his  lips. 
Neither  took  they  much  notice  of  him  as  they  went  by,  but  pro' 
ceeded  forward  till  they  came  before  the  king,  unto  whom  they 
made  their  obeisance  with  their  bodies,  as  they  were  wont,  with* 


TALTESIN.  395 

out  speaking  a  single  word,  but  pouting  out  their  lips,  and  mak- 
ing mouths  at  the  king,  playing  **  Blcrwm,  blerwm  !"  upon  their 
lips  with  their  fingers,  as  they  had  seen  the  boy  do.  'I'his  sight 
caused  the  king  to  wonder,  and  to  deem  within  himself  that 
they  were  drunk  with  many  liquors.  Wherefore  he  commanded 
one  of  his  lords,  who  served  at  the  board,  to  go  to  them  and 
desire  them  to  collect  their  wits,  and  to  consider  where  they 
stood,  and  what  it  was  fitting  for  them  to  do.  And  this  lord  did 
so  gladly.  But  they  ceased  not  from  their  folly  any  more  than 
before.  Whereupon  he  sent  to  them  a  second  time,  and  a  third, 
desiring  them  to  go  forth  from  the  hall.  At  the  last  the  king 
ordered  one  of  his  squires  to  give  a  blow  to  the  chief  of  them, 
named  Heinin  Vardd ;  and  the  squire  took  a  broom  and  struck 
him  on  the  head,  so  that  he  fell  back  in  his  seat.  Then  he  arose, 
and  went  on  his  knees,  and  besought  leave  of  the  king's  grace 
to  show  that  this  their  fault  was  not  through  want  of  knowledge, 
neither  through  drunkenness,  but  by  the  influence  of  some  spirit 
that  was  in  the  hall.  And  he  spoke  on  this  wise:  **0  honor- 
able king,  be  it  known  to  your  grace  that  not  from  the  strength 
of  drink,  or  of  too  much  licjuor,  are  we  dumb,  but  through  the 
influence  of  a  spirit  that  sits  in  the  corner  yonder,  in  the  form 
of  a  child."  Forthwith  the  king  commanded  the  squire  to 
fetch  him  ;  and  he  went  to  the  nook  where  Taliesin  sat,  and 
brought  him  before  the  king,  who  asked  him  what  he  was,  and 
whence  he  came.     And  he  answered  the  king  in  verse : 

**  Primary  chief  bard  am  I  to  Elphin, 
And  my  native  country  is  the  region  of  the  summer  stars  ; 
I  have  been  in  Asia  with  Noah  in  the  atk, 
I  have  seen  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
I  was  in  India  when  Rome  was  built, 
I  have  now  come  here  to  the  remnant  of  Troia." 

When  the  king  and  his  nobles  had  heard  the  song,  they  won- 
dered much,  for  they  had  never  heard  the  like  from  a  boy  so 
young  as  he.  And  when  the  king  knew  that  he  was  the  bard  of 
Elphin,  he  bade  Heinin,  his  first  and  wisest  bard,  to  answer 
Taliesin,  and  to  strive  with  him.  But  when  he  came,  he  could 
do  no  other  than  play  '^  Blerwm  !"  on  his  lips  ;  and  when  he 
sent  for  the  others  of  the  four  and  twenty  bards,  they  all  did 


396  LEG  END  AR  Y  POETS  AND  POETR  Y. 

likewise,  and  could  do  no  other.     And  Maelgan  asked  the  boy 
Taliesin  what  was  his  errand,  and  he  answered  him  in  song : 

"  Elphin,  the  son  of  Gwyddno, 
Is  in  the  land  of  Artro, 
Secured  by  thirteen  locks, 
For  praising  his  instructor. 
Therefore  I,  Taliesin, 
Chief  of  the  bards  of  the  west. 
Will  loosen  Elphin 
Out  of  a  golden  fetter." 

Then  he  sang  to  them  a  riddle : 

•*  Discover  thou  what  is 
The  strong  creature  from  before  the  flood, 
"Without  flesh,  without  bone, 
Without  vein,  without  blood, 
Without  head,  without  feet ; 
It  will  neither  be  older  nor  younger 
Than  at  the  beginning. 
Behold  how  the  sea  whitens 
When  first  it  comes. 
When  it  comes  from  the  south, 
When  it  strikes  on  coasts. 
It  is  in  the  field,  it  is  in  the  wood, 
But  the  eye  cannot  perceive  it. 
One  Being  has  prepared  it. 
By  a  tremendous  blast, 
To  wreak  vengeance 
On  Maelgan  Gwynedd." 

While  he  was  thus  singing  his  verse,  there  arose  a  mighty  storm 
of  wind,  so  that  the  king  and  all  his  nobles  thought  that  the 
castle  would  fall  upon  their  heads.  And  the  king  caused  them 
to  fetch  Elphin  in  haste  from  his  dungeon,  and  placed  him 
before  Taliesin.  And  it  is  said  that  he  immediately  sung  a 
verse,  so  that  the  chains  opened  from  about  his  feet. 

After  that  Taliesin  brought  Elphin' s  wife  before  them,  and 
showed  that  she  had  not  one  finger  wanting.  And  in  this  man- 
ner did  he  set  his  master  free  from  prison,  and  protect  the  inno- 
cence of  his  mistress,  and  silence  the  bards  so  that  not  one  of 
them  dared  to  say  a  word.  The  early  bards  w^ere  regarded  as 
the  prophets  of  the  people.     They  not  only  possessed  the  gift 


TALTESIN.  397 

of  song,  but  also  a  knowledge  of  the  past  and  future.     When 
Taliesin  was  asked  to  describe  the  creation  of  man,  he  said : 

♦'  The  Almighty  made, 
Down  the  Hebron  vale. 
With  his  plastic  hands, 
Adam's  fair  form. 

**  And  five  hundred  years 
There  he  remained,  and  lay, 
Void  of  any  help. 
Without  a  soul." 

The  legends  and  folk-lore  of  a  people  are  in  some  respects 
their  truest  history.  They  represent  not  so  much  what  has  been 
as  the  desires  and  aspirations  of  the  national  heart.  King  Ar- 
thur and  his  knights  are  an  ideal  court.  The  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity, that  centuries  after  culminated  into  doctrine  and  dogma, 
were  theirs  in  their  undeveloped  and  chaotic  form.  A  sense  of 
justice  underlies  their  every  action.  Their  lives,  although  a  strange 
medley  of  the  ideal,  the  impossible  and  the  real,  in  the  end  became 
the  dream  of  the  seer  and  the  song  of  the  poet.  Song  is  the 
language  of  immortality.  The  pen  of  history  may  become  rusty 
and  refuse  to  write,  but  harpstrings  are  not  easily  broken. 

•  •  Yet  the  same  harp  that  Taliesin  strung 

Delights  the  sons  whose  sires  the  chords  delighted  ; 
Still  the  old  music  of  the  mountain  tongue 

Tells  of  a  race  not  conquered  but  united  ; 
That,  losing  nought,  wins  all  the  Saxon  won, 
And  shares  the  realm  where  never  sets  the  sun." — Bulwer. 

Thus  Taliesin  sang  the  songs  of  every  land,  and  then  returned 
to  his  own  fair  country,  and  predicted  the  supremacy  of  the 

Anglo-Saxon  race : 

**  Britains  then  shall  have 
Their  lands  and  their  crown, 
And  the  stranger  swarms 
Shall  disappear." 

This  has  been  literally  fulfilled.  The  alien  races  long  since 
retreated  before  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  Britain  not  only  has  her 
own,  but  many  other  lands.  King  Arthur  has  become  a  legend, 
and  his  knightly  court  lingers  as  a  historic  shadow,  but  the  laws 
and  manners  of  those  days  are  still  in  force. 


398  LEGENDARY  POETS  AND  POETRY. 

Courtesy  to  woman,  the  abhorrence  of  a  lie,  and  a  readiness 
to  defend  the  weak,  are  still  characteristic  of  the  English  race. 
In  this  way  the  Age  of  Chivalry  has  perpetuated  itself. 

*•  Such  times  have  been  not  since  the  light  that  lead 
The  holy  Elders  with  the  gift  of  myrrh  ; 
But  now  the  whole  Round  Table  is  dissolved, 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty  world." 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 


INDEX    TO    POETS 


QUOTED    IN   THIS   VOLUME. 


PAGE 

Ariosto, 30 

Arnold,  Matthew,        .        .        .        .27,  105,  108,  111,  117,  130,  136,  138,  139 

Boiardo, 113 

Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B 225 

Brwynog, 299 

Bulwer, 321 

Cameron 325,  334,  347,  348,  352,  353,  356,  357,  359,  360 

Chaucer, 66,  67,  218,  234 

Clerk, 355 

Davidson, 375,377,380,382,383 

De  Bruune, 10 

Drayton, 40 

Dryden,        .        .      ' 53 

Ferguson,  Sir  Samuel, 388 

Gray, 213 

Hen, 257,268 

Kyveiliog, 219 

Lowell, 155,  172,  220,  221 

McGee,  Thomas  D'Arcy, 389 

Miller,  Joaquin, 206 

Milton, 15,17 

Mitchell,  S.  Weir, 191 

Moore, 202 

Old  Ballad, 203 

Old  Song, 85 

Ossian,  ............      318-383 

Ossian,  Old  Version, 367,  381 

Percy, 40,  49,  64,  66,  69,  71,  77,  78,  80,  199,  200,  203,  204 

Pindar, 206 

Sackville, 20,21 

Schiller, 201 

Scott, 10,  53,  62,  64,  79,  121, 133,  135,  139 

1      369,  370,  371,  372,  373 

Shakespeare, 18,  19,  21,  23,  212 

Spenser, 14,  30,  31,  106,  125 

Swinburne, 109,  111 

Taliesin, 237,315,319,320,321 

(399) 


400  INDEX  TO  POETS. 

Tennyson,  page 

Coming  of  Arthur 36,  38,  39,  41,  42,  43,  44,  52,  58 

Elaine, 45,  92.  90,  97,  98,  99,  ICMJ 

J,   . ,  f  239,  240,  242,  243,  245,  246,  247,  251,  253,  255,  257,  258, 

"'  '       '         '        1      259,  260,  261,  263,  264,  265,  266,  267,  268 

Gareth  and  Lynette, 50,  107 

Guinevere,      .      1,  37,  43,  44,  85,  175,  176,  185,  191,  192,  193,  194,  195,  190 

Ti  i„  nno;i  1  126, 147,  148,  149,  150,  151,  154,  157,  158,  159,  161,  168, 

Uolyurail,    .      {      ^q^^  ij^ 

Lady  of  Shalott 92,  93,  95,  98 

Last  Tournament, 35,  112,  119,  120,  124,  128 

Morte  d'Arthur, 187,188,189,190,322 

Palace  of  Art 34 

Passing  of  Arthur 182,  183,  185,  186,  187 

Pelleas  and  Ettarre, 179,  181 

Sir  Galaliad, 151,  152,  171 

Sir  Launcelot  and  Queen  Guinevere, 73 

Vivian, 26,  27,  28,  31,  36 

Triads, 215,  230,  317 

Warton, 34 

Welsh  Bard, 227 

Wordsworth, 22, 24 


INDEX. 


Aber  Alaw,  282. 

Aber  Cleddyf,  312. 

^NEAS,  14. 
ACHELOUS,  15. 

Agandecca,  death  of,  343. 

Agravain,  63;  his  treasou,  174. 

AlDEEN,  384. 

Albanact,  16. 

Albania,  17. 

Albion,  sou  of  Neptune,  13 ;  Island 
of,  16. 

Alemanus,  14. 

Alexander  the  Great,  11. 

Alpin,  son  of,  375. 

Althan,  369. 

Alyduke,  80. 

Ambrosius,  35. 

Amorica,  24. 

Anarawd,  277. 

Andret,  113. 

Anlawd,  295. 

Ardan,  327. 

Aegius,  King  of  Ireland,  110,  111. 

Aries,  45. 

ARMOR,  6. 

Arthgallo,  brother  to  Elidnoe,  21, 
22. 

Artho,  son  of,  371. 

Arthur,  8,  24,  26;  historical  evi- 
dences of,  33;  chosen  King,  38; 
sends  embassy  to  Brittany,  39; 
wins  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  40; 

,  gives  battle  to  Laodegan,  41;  slays 
a  giant,  42 ;  marries  Guinevere,  44 ; 
his  victory  over  Scots  and  Picts,  48 ; 
vanquishes  Flollo,  49;  his  corona- 
tion, 50;  refuses  tribute  to  Rome, 
52;  slays  giant  of  St.  Michael's 
Mount,  53 ;  gets  sword  from  Lady 
of  the  Lake,  55 ;  meets  the  Grim 
Baron,  64,  90.  91,  92,  121 ;  welcomes 
Sir  Tristram,  124, 127,  142,  144,  146. 
149,  150;  joy  at  return  of  knights, 
173;  gives  battle  to  Sir  Launcelot, 
177 ;  makes  peace  for  one  year,  179 ; 
returns  to  England,  183;  his  last 
battle,  185;  throws  his  sword  into 
the  sea,  188;  his  death,  190. 

ascanius,  14. 

Atha,  361. 

AuwYN,  292. 

Avaon,  215. 


Badon  Mount,  40. 

Bagdemagus,  King,  77,  152,  153. 

Ban,  King,  39,  42.  72. 

Beauvais,   Egbert    de,    thirteenth 

century  poet,  9. 
Bedivere,  187. 
Bedrawd,  254. 
Bedver,  49,  52,  54. 
Bedwyr,  254.  • 

Belinda,  106. 
Belinus,  21. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  275,  280,  284. 
Berrathon,  375. 
Blaanor,  111. 
Bladud,  18. 
Blamor,  198. 
Bleoberis,  198. 
BOHORT,  King,  39,  42,  73,  93,  150 ;  his 

quest,  163;  fights  with  Lionel,  165, 

171,  174. 
Boy  and  the  Mantle,  69. 
Brademagus,  89, 152. 
Bragela,  334. 
Brandeles,  80. 
Branwen,  275-283. 
Brassolis,  330. 
Brengwain,  111,  129. 
Brennus,  21. 

Breuse  sans  Pitie,  122-129.  , 

Brice,  Bishop,  38. 
Britons,  211. 
Brittany,  8,  24. 

Britto,  14.  I 

Brutus,  14;  captures  Pandrasus  and 

builds  his  capital  city,  16. 
Bryan,  80. 

Cabait,  319. 

Cador,  68. 

Caerleon,  note,  50. 

C^sAR,  Julius,  11,  17,  23. 

Cairbar,  318,  329,  330,  336,  338,  339; 

his  feast,  364 ;  battle  with  Oscar, 

366. 
Caleburn,  298.  ; 

Calidore,  106. 

Calm  A  R,  320;  death  of,  344.  . 

Camber,  16.  . 

Cambria,  17. 
Camelot,  note,  50. 
Caolt,  320,  336. 

Caradoc  Brief-Bras,  67-69,  283. 
2()  (  40I  ) 


402 


INDEX, 


Cablible,  36;  note,  50, 

Carril,  328-330,  337-339,  341,  ^TA. 

Cassibkllaunus,  23. 

Caswallawn,  282,  £83. 

Cathbat,  322,  323,  324. 

Charlemagne,  8,  11. 

Chivalry,  meaning  of,  2. 

GiMBRI,  211. 

Claudus,  72. 

Cleodalis,  41. 

Clerks,  4. 

Colgrevance,  166. 

Comal,  339,  340. 

CONAN,  24. 

CONLOCH,  340. 

CoNNAL,  320,  330,  332,  333,  334,  335, 

337,  338,  339. 
CONNAN,  359. 
CONSTANS,  35. 

Cordelia,  18. 

CORINEUS,  16. 

Cormac,  321 ;  his  death,  371. 

CORMAR,  362. 

Creiddylad,  299. 

Cromla,  321. 

Crugal,  320,  332,  333,  335,  336. 

CucHULLiN,  his  chariot,  326;  speech 
of,  328;  his  depression,  338 ;  retires 
to  cave,  346;  discovered  by  Fingal, 
358;  returns  to  Scotland,  360. 

CURACH,  319,  336. 

CUTHON,  320. 

Cymbeline,  23. 

Cymri,  293. 

Daguenet,  128. 

David,  King,  11. 

Degrena,  336. 

Deugala,  338,  339. 

Diana,  15,  16. 

Dillus  Varwawc,  305,  312. 

DoGED,  295. 

DooRM,  Earl  of,  265-268. 

DORGLAS,  328. 

Dragon,  199. 
Dremhidydd,  215. 
dubricius,  51. 

DucHOMAR,  322 ;  death  of,  324. 
Dunskonnal,  325,  327,  337. 
Dyvid,  269. 

Eag^le  of  Gwern  Abwy,  310. 

Edeyrn,  250. 

Eidoel,  309. 

Elaine,  45;  and  Launcelot,  the  story 

of,  95-100. 
Elidure,  21,  22. 
Elphin,  390. 
Enid,    and    Geraint,    257-261,    262, 

263;  and  the  Earl  of  Doorm,  265- 

267. 
England,  mythical  history  of,  13. 


Erbin,  238,  258. 
estrildis,  17. 
Eth,  320. 
Euroswydd,  275. 
Evnissyen,  275. 

EWAEDAN,  299. 

Excalibur,  38,  40. 

Fainfallis,  348. 

Ferda,  338. 

Fergus,  322,  347. 

FERRExand  Porrex,  20. 

Fill  AN,  346. 

FiNGAL,  317;  his  fleet,  338;  counsel  to 
Oscar,  349;  his  victory,  350;  land- 
ing of,  362;  voyage  to  Lochlin,  374. 

Fiona,  327. 

Flollo,  vanquished  by  Arthur,  49. 

FOLDATH,  362. 

Fortunate  Isles,  205. 
Francus,  14. 
Freemen,  4. 
Friar  Tuck,  20.3. 

Gaharet,  63. 

Gahebis,  78,  175-178. 

Galahad,  149-153, 154,  158, 159,  167, 
170,  171 :  is  made  king,  172 ;  his 
death,  173. 

Galehaut,  93. 

Galleron,  133. 

Galvina,  340. 

Galynde,  80. 

Gareth,  63,  175-178. 

Garselit,  215. 

Gast  Rhymhi,  305. 

Gaul,  349. 

Gawain,  his  victory,  46,  52;  his  ad- 
venture, 58;  nephew  to  King  Ar- 
thur, 63 ;  marriage,  63, 81, 82 ;  meets 
Launcelot  in  a  cart,  87,  93,  102, 124, 
134;  surnamed  the  Golden-Tongued, 
145;  and  Perceval,  146,  148;  his 
vow,  149, 153, 154, 175, 177,  178, 179 ; 
fights  with  Launcelot,  181 ;  adven- 
ture with  Lady  of  the  Fountain, 
231,  254. 

Gawedd,  303. 

Gawl,  272,  273,  274. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  translated 
Legends  into  Latin  in  twelfth  cen- 
tury, 8, 14. 

Geraint,  238;  and  Knight  of  the 
Sparrow-Hawk,  245-248;  the  hunt- 
ing party,  249-256 ;  and  Enid,  257- 
262;  and  the  Earl  of  Limours,  262- 
264;  and  the  Earl  of  Doorm,  265; 
Geraint's  death,  268. 

Glewlwyd,  297. 

Gloy,  284. 

Godfrey  (Godefroy  of  Boloyn),  11. 

Golendid.  295. 


INDEX. 


403 


GOLENDYD,  299. 
GONERIL,  18. 
GORBODUC,  20. 

GoRLOis,  36,  37. 

GORMAL,  340. 
GORSEDD,  286. 
GOUVERNAIL,  105,  120. 

Grudab,  329,  330. 
Grumal,  337,  340. 

GUENDOLEN,  17. 

GuEBNACH,  the  Giant,  305-307. 

Guest,  Lady  Charlotte,  translator 
of  Legends,  12. 

guillamurius,  51. 

Guimier,  69. 

Guinevere,  41,  44  ;  Launcelot's  love 
for,  74;  Launcelot  sends  knights  as 
prisoners  to,  81 ;  goes  a-Mayiiig  and 
is  attacked  by  Sir  Maleagaus,  86,  89, 
91;  her  jealousy  of  Elaine,  95;  her 
peril,  101;  rescued  by  Launcelot, 
104, 124, 127;  insulted,  142 ;  avenged 
by  Perceval,  143;  condemned  to 
death,  176 ;  carried  off  by  Launcelot, 
176  ;  enters  nunnery,  191 ;  sees  King 
Arthur,  193;  her  death,  194,  223. 

GURFASIUS,  51. 

GUBHYB  GWALSTAT,  300-311. 

GWEBN,  281. 

GwiLiM,  254. 

GwYDDNO  Gararhir,  390. 
GWYNN  Gloy,  284. 
GwYR,  254. 

Hamo's  Port,  note,  50. 

Harlech,  275. 

Hector,  7, 11. 

Hector  de  Mary's,  81,  82,  93,  118, 

154.  198. 
Heinin  Vardd,  395. 
Helen,  70. 
Helenus,  14. 
Helmets,  6. 
Hen,  213. 
Hesperides,  206. 
Heveydd,  271. 
Heveyd  Hir,  277. 
Hidalla,  363. 

HiSTiON,  the  son  of  Japhet,  14. 
HOEL,  40,  49,  52,  136. 
Holy  Grail  (see  Sangbeal). 
HOUDAIN,  111. 
HowEL,  254. 

Iddic,  277. 
Igeone,  36,  37. 

Incubus,  father  of  Merlin,  25. 
Inistore,  327. 
Innisfml,  320,  327. 
IsouDE,  and   Tristram,  105-121,  128, 
129-131,  132. 

ISOUDE  OF  THE  WhITE   HaNDS,  136. 


Joseph  of  Arimathea,   147,   150, 

153. 
Joshua  (Due  Josue),  11. 
JoYEUSE  Garde,  132 
Judas  Maccabeus,  11 ;  the  traitor, 

126. 
Julius  Cjesab,  11. 

Kadyrioth,  249. 

Kai,  254. 

Kay,  39,  49,  51,  54,  81,  82,  84;  tells 

Guinevere  of   Sir  Launcelot's  ride 

in  a  cart,  90,  117;  meets  Perceval, 

142,  217,  223,  232,  298,  308. 
Kelyddon,  Prince,  295,  299. 
KicvA,  284. 

KiLWiCH  and  Olwen,  295-310. 
KiLYDD,  295,  299. 
Kirkley-Hall,  203. 
Knight   of  the   Spabrow-Hawk, 

245. 
Knight,  the  training  of  a,  3. 
Kyndelig,  300. 

Kynon's adventure,  217-222,  224,  231. 
Kynvelyn,  299. 

Lady  of  the  Fountain,  217-237. 

Lady  of  the  Lake  (Vivian),  27,  55, 
72. 

Laodegan,  41. 

Larthmor,  376. 

Launcelot,  his  birth,  72;  Sir  Laun- 
celot of  the  Lake,  73;  his  love  for 
Guinevere,  74 ;  overthrows  three 
knights,  79;  rescues  sixty-four 
knights  from  prison,  81 ;  succors 
Sir  Kay,  81 ;  slays  Sir  Phelot,  83; 
adventure  of  the  cart,  85-90;  the 
Lady  of  Shalott,  92-95 ;  and  Elaine, 
95-100;  rescues  Queen  Guinevere, 
101-104 ;  and  Sir  Tristram,  122-124; 
meets  Sir  Galahad,  150;  in  quest  of 
the  Grail,  155  ;  vows  to  reform,  157, 
168,  174;  and  Guinevere,  175-177, 
178,  179,  180;  tights  with  Gawain, 
181 ;  returns  to  England  and  meets 
Guinevere,  195;  becomes  a  monk, 
196 ;  sickness  and  death,  197. 

Lear,  King,  18. 

Lego,  Lake  of,  321. 

Lethmal,  380, 

LiA  Fail  (coronation  stone),  201. 

LiMOUBS,  Earl  of,  262-265. 

Lion,  the  adventure  of  the,  234. 

Lionel,  73.  74.  93;  fights  with  hi*" 
brother  Bohort,  163. 

Little  John,  203. 

Llenleawg,  215. 

Lloyd,  292. 

Lludd  (Llyr),  note,  299 

Llyb,  275. 

Llywabch,  215. 


404 


INDEX. 


LOCHEINE,  16,  17. 
LOEGYR,  259. 

London  (Trinovantum),  16. 
LUAED,  King  of  the  Franks,  20. 
LUCAN,  187. 

Lucius  Tiberius,  52. 

LUD,  22. 

LUNED,  227,  228,  229,  236. 

Mabinogeon,  11,  211. 

Mabon,  305. 

Macpherson,  James,  317. 

Mador,  101.  104. 

Maelgan,  316. 

Mail  armor,  6. 

Maleagans,  85-90. 

Mallory,  Sir  Thomas,  10,  198. 

Malthos,  362. 

Malvasius,  51. 

Malvina,  375. 

Manawyddan,  275,  284-293. 

Marian,  203. 

Mark,  King,  106. 

Maximus,  24. 

Medieval  Legends,  199. 

Meliadus,  105. 

Meneu,  300, 303. 

Merlin,  his  origin,  25;  enchantment 

by  Vivian,  27;  his  tower,  28;  his 

death,  31,  37,  39,  40,  41,  42,  55,  56; 

monument  to,  123, 204. 
Metrical  Romances,  9. 
Minerva,  18. 
ModRed,  slain  by  Arthur,  33;  plot  of, 

175;  made  'ving,  182;  defeated  by 

Arthur,  183. 
Modron,  305. 
MOI-LENA,  366. 

Moines,  35. 
molmutius,  21. 
Mora,  heath  of,  320. 
MoRAN,  318,  337. 
Mor-Annal,  362. 
MORGLAN,  336. 
MoRLA,  334. 

MORLATH,   362. 

MORNA,  322,  323 ;  death  of,  324. 
MORVEN,  322,  327. 

Narberth,  286,  290. 
Nennius,  combats  with  Caesar,  23, 
Neptune,  13. 
NissYEN,  275. 

Odyar,  254. 

Olwen  and  Kilwich,  295-310. 

Ondyaw,  254. 

Oscar,  bravery  of,  348 ;  death  of,  366. 

OssiAN,  317,  329;  laments  for  Oscar, 
367;  defeats  Uthal,  380;  premoni- 
tion of  his  death,  382. 

Ousel,  309. 


OwAiN  and  Perceval,  143,  144;  his 
adventure,  223-230;  and  the  lion, 
234  ;  and  Luned,  236. 

Owen,  Wm„  12. 

Palamedes,  108,  122-123 ;  and  Tris- 
tram, 132-135. 

Pandrasus,  King  of  Greece,  14 ;  cap- 
tured by  Brutus,  15. 

Pecheur,  King,  144. 

Pellenores,  his  adventure,  60; 
builds  a  palace  for  Launcelot,  96. 

Pendragon,  26,  35,  205. 

Perceval,  early  education  of,  140; 
sees  the  Sangreal,  145;  his  quest, 
157;  his  temptation,  160-162,  167, 
171 ;  his  death,  174. 

Perilous  seat,  124. 

Persides,  119. 

Phelot,  83. 

Pheredin.  116. 

Porrex,  20. 

Priwen,  40. 

Pryderi.  282, 284. 

Prydwen,  298. 

PuNO,  320. 

PWYLL,  269-284. 

Redynvre,  310. 

Regan,  18. 

Rhiannon,  270,  271,  284. 

Rhongomyant,  298. 

Rhun,  392. 

Robin  Hood,  202. 

Rochester,  Bishop  of,  180. 

Romances,  7,  9. 

Roman  power,  decline  of,  1. 

ROMANUS,  14. 

Ron,  40. 
RONNAR,  320. 
Round  Table,  36. 
Ryno,  346,  383. 

Sabra,  17. 

Sabrina,  river,  17. 

Saffire,  178. 

Sagramour  le  Desirous,  81, 82. 

Salmon,  the,  307-313. 

Sangreal  (Holy  Grail),  30;  Launce- 
lot healed  by,  96 ;  seen  by  Perceval, 
145 ;  described,  147, 171 ;  is  taken  to 
Heaven,  173. 

Serfs,  4. 

Serpents,  battle  of  the,  26. 

Severn,  river,  17. 

Shalott,  note,  50. 

Shalott,  Lady  of,  9. 

Sithallin,  327. 

Snivan,  342. 

Sparrow-Hawk,  Knight  of  the,  245- 
248. 

St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  199. 


INDEX. 


405 


Starno,  343. 
Stonehenge,  204. 
SuLiN-SiFADDA,  315,  327,  337. 
SwARAN,  King  of  Lochlin,  318;  land- 
ing of,  328 ;  his  victory,  337. 

Talian,  St.,  seventh  century  author, 

8. 

Taliesin,  206,  213,  282,  390-398. 

Teirgwed,  300. 

Teirtu,  305. 

Temora,  361. 

Tor,  his  knighthood,  44;  his  adven- 
ture, 59. 

Tournaments,  5. 

Triads,  214. 

Trinovantum  (London),  16. 

Tristram,  and  Isoude,  105-121 ;  and 
Launcelot,  122;  as  sportsman,  125; 
and  the  Round  Table,  126;  and  Sir 
Palamedes,  132-136 ;  his  death,  139. 

ToscAR,  376. 

Teenae,  328. 


Trenmor,  352. 
Trojan  Exiles,  14, 15. 
TRO.JANOVA  (New  Troy),  16. 
TuRQUiNE,  Sir,  77 ;  slain  by  Launce- 
lot, 79. 

Uther,  26,  35. 
UwAiNE,  81,  82,  152. 

Van,  280. 

Villains,  4. 

Vivian,  her  enchantment  of  Merlin, 

27-32,  72. 
VORTIGERN,  25,  26,  36. 

Welsh  Bards,  213. 
Welsh  Literature,  212. 
Westmestre  Abbey,  198. 
White  Mount,  282. 

Yiiywl,  Earl,  247,  248. 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,  296,  303 


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